The Chosen
by Shawne 'til dawn
Summary: An old friend comes back to Bay City to save Starsky from the girl of his dreams.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning****:** "The Chosen" is a paranormal/supernatural dark tale and contains some sexual content, foul language, and hurt scenes that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I truly do not want to offend anyone and it is never my intentions to do so. Please consider yourself warned.

_**A/N:**__ Aloha everyone, _

_I hope that your Christmas was a festive and merry one and that the New Year of 2009 will bring you only happiness, health and prosperity. In celebration of the coming new year, I bring you my humble offerings in the form of a gift called, "The Chosen." I will be posting both the prologue and the first chapter together. This is a sequel of sorts to two prior stories I've written in the past. In this story, I will be bringing back the character of Mari, who was the heroin in the story "Episodes". She is one of the few characters that I haven't killed off yet, so I could take her out once more to play with her again. (grin)__The other story that is tied to this one, I will reveal later on._

_This will be the last story I will be doing for the SH fandom for a while, but I have promised someone very dear to me that I will write another story before the new year is up and hopefully I will return to entertain you once more. _

_Until then, take care and God bless you all. A heartfelt "Mahalo" goes out to each and everyone of you for your support and kind words throughout the years. It has certainly been a wonderful ride. _

_Enjoy dear readers . . . this one is for you . . . as always . . . _

_Much love and light . . . shawne_

**~The Chosen~ **

_**Prologue ~**_

Bourbon Street, New Orleans

The night sky was awash in garish reds and blues. The antiquated buildings that lined the French Quarter looked almost ominous in the alternating colors that flashed from the squad cars and ambulance that responded to the scene. New Orleans police officers and their forensic team were busy gathering evidence and keeping the usually rowdy crowd of patrons that frequented the all night bars and establishments on Bourbon Street subdued and quiet, while the boys from the morgue zipped up the decrepit corpse now resting in the body bag.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

The petite Asian woman startled at the familiar rough-edged voice and glanced up at the handsome agent in the suit and tie from where she crouched in the dirty alleyway. Crushed herbs and bones lay undisturbed on the wet lane as the quiet drizzle sprinkled down from the heavens above.

Mari tucked a strand of hair behind an ear, inadvertently shaking the raindrops from her long ebony tresses and bit her lower lip. She knew her partner was attracted to her. It didn't take any psychic abilities to tell her that. Even now, Mari could feel his warm gaze stroking heatedly against her slender body and the seductive look caused her to tremble with need.

Justin Thatcher was a handsome man and he was charming as well. Dark, brown hair, high cheekbones and a chiseled jaw line covered with dark stubble added to the manliness of the agent. Though there were times Mari was tempted to explore their relationship beyond the boundaries of their partnership, she knew she never would. That would be a step that Mari would never take. Theirs was a work related relationship and that was all. No lines would be crossed and Mari would make sure to keep it that way or she would quit. Right now she decided to ignore his question as her gaze roamed over the items at her feet.

Mari looked over the articles that were placed carefully on the intricate geometric design spray-painted onto the dirty walkway under a window of the boarding house where the corpse was found. The spilled blood created a morbid halo around the cracked overturned bowl that once contained the red liquid. The body of a headless chicken, obviously sacrificed for its blood, was dumped uncaringly beside the half full can of orange spray paint.

"It almost looks like some kind of Santaria ritual offering doesn't it?" Mari whispered, as she carefully held her gloved hand just inches above one of the charred bones and closed her eyes. A shudder raced through her slender frame as a vision of sapphire colored eyes swam before her. Mari's breath quickened and she slowly clenched her hand into a fist, opening her almond shaped eyes once more.

_David._

Mari sighed and stood. That was weird. She hadn't thought of the curly haired detective in a long time. Seeing those eyes again made her realize how much she missed him. The ruthless pounding in her head increased and she closed her eyes briefly to compensate for the dizziness she suddenly felt. Coming to a historical city like the French Quarter in New Orleans always made her feel ill. Too many emotions and memories, too many things that happened in the past were woven into the fabric of this place bombarding her senses all at once. Being in a place that was filled with so much history never failed to overwhelm Mari to the point of suffocation.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." The Asian woman pressed her lips together as her partner raised a skeptic brow.

"Right!" Thatcher said sarcastically. "That's why you're as white as a ghost and ready to fall down."

Mari smiled and rolled her eyes ignoring her partner's glib response. "And in answer to your previous question, why don't _you _tell me what I'm thinking," Mari said. "After all, you're the psychic."

"Funny short stuff, real funny! You know my talent isn't psychometry or premonitions."

The tall, dark haired man smiled and reached out a hand to gently encircle the woman's fragile wrist. "You "feel" or "see" anything from running your hand over those cooked bones? I can tell you have one hell of a headache right now."

Sudden warmth flooded Mari's being and she carefully pulled her arm free from her partner's grasp. Dark brown eyes latched briefly onto jade green. "No. I didn't get anything. Really Justin, I'm fine. The headache is already dissipating." Mari cleared her throat and looked around uncomfortably feeling Justin's gaze upon her. "Did you check out the room yet, where the body was found?"

"Did I ever tell you how much I love it when you use my given name?" Justin Thatcher chuckled at the stern look that crossed Mari's face, his eyes looking like sparkling emeralds under the dim streetlight. "Okay, okay . . . sorry." Agent Thatcher grinned, waving a dismissing hand. "I know, we're on a job, but seriously Miyamoto, you need to take a chill-pill and lighten up a little. Life isn't only about death and solving murders, you know. Maybe you should take Franklin up on his offer. You haven't had a vacation for some time now. He said you'd have to use it or you'd lose it, babe."

Mari lifted her shoulders in a shrug, but made no comment to her partner's statement.

The handsome FBI agent sighed softly, green eyes drifting up to the window of the room he'd just left. "Forensics and the cops are going over that bedroom with a fine tooth comb, but I don't think they'll find anything more than what we already know about this case."

"And we aren't any closer to solving _this_ case either. The body count has risen to four with the finding of this John Doe. The only similarity is that each victim is male and they're all found in the same condition, shriveled, almost gray with dehydration." Mari frowned, her voice grew soft as she continued, "It's like their life force was just sucked out of them leaving their bodies dried up and aged. All of those men were in their prime and yet, their corpses looked years older than what they really were. The doctors in the different hospitals couldn't figure out the cause of the victims' demise and it's all we can do to keep this under wraps. If more bodies start turning up this way, Thatcher, and if we don't figure this phenomenon out soon, I'm sure the CDC will be called in. Franklin will have our butts on a plate if that happens."

"Well, tonight's case was different though. The other three guys checked themselves into a hospital before they bit the dust, but the dude tonight was found in a boarding room. And not only was prune man found lying on a hooker's bed, but he was naked too. From the looks of it, he must have had one hell of a good time going out with one of the infamous Bourbon Street Ladies of the Night. At least he must have died with a smile on his face!" Justin's grin faded as he saw the look of disgust that crossed his partner's pretty features. "I was just joking, shortie. Just trying to add some levity to this dismal case."

Mari sighed. "I know. You're always just joking, Thatcher." The slender woman turned her almond shaped eyes to the same window. "Something tells me that we're gonna have a breakthrough soon. I "feel" it. Whoever or whatever is causing these men to die will slip up and when they do we'll be there . . . waiting. We're just one step behind. We just have to figure out the connection between the victims."

"Maybe we won't have to wait too long," Justin Thatcher replied. Mari watched as the tall FBI agent reached into his long black trench coat and pulled out a ragged photo. His gloved fingers flicked the edge of the picture. "I found this on the floor beside the bed and the nightstand. Don't know if it has anything to do with the case though. For all we know it could just be the hooker's next trick."

Mari reached out and took the small snapshot from her partner's hand. Color drained from her high cheekbones and a small gasp escaped her lips as she studied the familiar face.

"What's wrong, Mari?" Justin asked with concern, his hand reaching out to steady the petite woman.

"I know this man," Mari whispered. Erotic images of naked limbs and writhing bodies flashed through her already pounding head. The brief vision faded as Mari sensed her partner stepping closer to her.

Justin frowned as he glanced at the picture, pulling the woman's slender frame against his side, longing to, but refraining his hands from gently running over Mari's dark, silky hair. "You okay?" the tall FBI agent murmured softly, concern evident in the look he gave his partner. At Mari's nod, he continued.

"Who is that?" Justin asked, his dark brow lifting, studying the face of the man in the picture.

Mari took in a deep cleansing breath and stepped away from the warm embrace of her handsome partner. "He's a friend, a detective from Bay City. I haven't seen David Starsky in years."

"Why would his picture be here? Does this friend of yours like to get his jollies with hookers, Miyamoto? Didn't think you would hang with scumbags like that."

Mari turned toward the tall agent, a smug look plastered over her face. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Thatcher?" The oriental woman grinned as her partner frowned. "Relax Justin, David's nothing like you. He's a caring, decent human being." At her partner's scowl, Mari laughed and then said, "David and I are just good friends that's all. He helped me a long time ago. He and his partner, Hutch, saved my life."

"The Interstate Killer?" Justin queried, his dark green eyes hardening in anger as he thought of the deranged murderer that for years had stalked the small woman before him. "This David is the cop who helped you back then?"

"Yes. He nearly lost his life because of me," Mari whispered. "He was stabbed in an alleyway." Mari shook off the residual pain and horror those memories always gave her. "I can never repay Starsky and Hutch for all they did to help me."

"Think he's connected to the case?" Justin asked, taking the picture from Mari's hands to study the curly haired, muscular man. "I mean, why would his picture be here of all places?"

Mari frowned, seeing David's sapphire blue orbs once more in her mind's eye. "I don't know, but maybe I should just take that vacation Franklin wanted me to take. It's been a while since I've gone back, but it'll be nice to see everyone again in Bay City. These people are like family to me."

"Want me to go with?" Justin asked hopefully, dark brows rose in question. "I'd love to meet your "family". I think it's about time you let me into your life a little, Miyamoto. After all, we've been partners for the past three years now."

"Don't remind me how long I've been suffering!" Mari grinned, and then said, "Look, I'm a big girl, Thatcher. I think I can do this one alone and besides, you used up all of your vacation time seeking pleasures of the flesh if I remember correctly. What did you say? You were riding the waves in Hawaii and chasing tanned women in grass skirts until you couldn't walk anymore. You said visiting the islands was the vacation of your life, remember?" Mari laughed as her partner's handsome face masked into a pained expression. He raised a large hand to dramatically place his palm over his heart.

"You wound me with your words, Mari-san." Justin sniffed. "I am a gentleman first and a horny toad second." The handsome agent smiled and gently tucked a long strand of Mari's dark hair behind her ear, his eyes softening with affection. "And besides, there's only one girl I truly want to give my heart to, but right now, she's just not ready yet, I don't think."

Mari stared up into her partner's golden green depths, her velvet brown eyes searching Justin's ruggedly handsome features. She sighed softly and then smiled sweetly, shaking her head, turning away from the tall agent. "I think I'll call Franklin in the morning about that vacation time. You should call him too and clue him in to what we found here in New Orleans before the man splits a gasket."

Justin Thatcher let out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding. Disappointment etched his face before he smiled it away, a slight dimple appearing in his left cheek. "Well, if I know Franklin, he already 'knows' what happened here without me giving him the run down. The man's brilliant. His 'talents' far outweighs ours combined."

"Hmm," Mari murmured, only half listening to her partner's ramble about their boss. Her eyes were drawn once more to the picture she still held in her slender hand. The small Asian woman gently traced the curly haired detective's image with her slender finger.

_David._

Now that she'd made up her mind, the pull to return to Bay City tugged at her heart. Whatever was killing these men, Mari was certain that David was involved somehow and that he was in danger. It was time to go back, to revisit the people in her past and perhaps this time, she could return the favor and save his life.

_**~ Chapter One ~**_

He could feel himself writhing in ecstasy. Their naked bodies twisting and churning, casting strange shadows that moved erotically upon the bedroom wall in an age-old dance of sexual gratification. He glanced over to the mirror and watched their play, loving how they were plastered together by their mingled sweat that dampened the sheets beneath them.

_God, it felt so good! _

He could feel the internal tightening of her muscles as she sat above him and a gasp of pure pleasure escaped his lips. He held on tight to her rocking hips, his bright blue eyes devouring her glistening torso and lovely breasts. He glanced once more into the mirror, the woman's long black hair floated out like shimmering silk around them. He lifted his hand and reached up to cup a smooth, slippery mound; drawing her down so that his lips could encircle a coral tipped nipple. He could hear her moan softly as he suckled, as his throbbing manhood pistoned in and out of her, knowing he was leading her to the brink, to the climax they both sought.

He frantically pumped his lean hips, feeling his hardness melting into her molten heat, his breathing ragged and irregular. His body tensed and screamed in pleasure. She wrung a cry from him with a twist of her hips, smiling smugly as he spilled his essence inside of her. Still joined and breathing hard, the woman leaned over and kissed him lightly upon the lips; her hot, wet tongue worming its way into his mouth. Turning his head with her hands and sliding her lips to his ear, the woman whispered eerily, "You belong to me . . ."

The strange plea ended in a sibilant hiss as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He watched as the woman righted herself, his own blue eyes widening in horror as he caught sight of the aged man beneath her. All signs of virility and life were gone from the man, seemingly sucked out until nothing was left but shriveled skin and bones as dry as dust…

"_Noooo!"_

Starsky sat up abruptly in his bed, gasping as the nightmare still dug its hideous talons into him, hearing his residual cry as it echoed against the walls of his bedroom. Struggling to get a hold of his erratic breathing and rapidly beating heart, the dark haired detective turned quickly to stare at himself in the mirror.

Cobalt blue eyes, widened now in horror and fear, stared back at him; blue eyes that swam in a pale face framed by dark riotous curls. He struggled to catch his breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He was fine--not old and dried out like he was in the dream, but young and virile and healthy.

"Just a dream. That's all it was. Just a fucking weird dream." Starsky mumbled, not exactly sure if he said it to state a fact, or if he said it to reassure himself.

Looking at himself in the mirror once more, Starsky shuddered and ran a hand over his sweat-drenched chest feeling his heartbeat slowing down to normal. Dragging the same hand through his unruly curls, the dark haired detective frowned as he moved his legs. Carefully lifting the sheets, Starsky peeked underneath.

"Aww man! Shit. I don't believe this!" the brunet mumbled under his breath.

The disgruntled cop lowered the bedding and lay abruptly back against the pillows, squirming uncomfortably, his mind racing as his neck and cheeks reddened in embarrassment. "Holy crap! Can't believe I had a wet dream! Wait 'til Blondie hears 'bout this one . . . ain't had one of those since I was in high school."

_**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**_

"You okay, buddy?" The handsome blond detective frowned as he watched his dark haired counterpart stiffly climb into the LTD, pulling irritably at the stuck door until it slammed shut with a loud protesting groan.

"Yeah. Why you askin'?" Starsky replied, one arm reaching up to rub his aching shoulder.

"Oh . . .nothing." Hutch said stoically, pale blue eyes focused on his side mirror, turning the wheel as he spoke. "Just that you seem wasted this morning that's all."

"Yeah? How so?" Starsky asked, leaning heavily against his side of the door, sapphire blue eyes drifting aimlessly over the pedestrians that roamed along the sidewalk as the Hutch's broken down car pulled into the mainstream of traffic.

"Well, it could be those dark circles under your eyes or the way you seem to have lost the bounce in your stride. Or maybe it's the way you can't seem to sit up straight, or the way you're rubbing your shoulder there, pal."

"Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up!"

Hutch laughed out loud, his blue eyes softening to the color of the sky as he glanced at his grouchy partner. "Sorry buddy, I'm just worried that's all. You look a little flushed this morning." His partner's muffled snort made the blond's grin widen even more. "Laugh it up Starsk. I know you think I'm being a mother hen, but the flu I had last week isn't anything to laugh at."

"I know," Starsky said. "I took care of you, remember?"

"Yeah, and that's why you're prone to catching it. I was contagious like hell, buddy; and you stayed with me everyday until I got better." Hutch replied, a tinge of guilt could be heard in his words and Starsky sighed.

"You would'a done the same for me, Blintz." The dark haired detective turned to look at his partner. "Me and thee right? Me and thee through thick and thin . . ."

Hutch nodded and chuckled, "Through good times and bad . . ."

"Through sickness and health . . ." Starsky smiled.

"'Til death do us part. Amen!" Hutch said with a firm nod, expecting a humorous snort to come from the brunet at his side. The tall blond glanced over his shoulder at Starsky's lack of response and then frowned as he realized he'd passed their destination. Hutch made a quick turn, swinging the car perfectly until it slid into the space next to the sidewalk fronting the police station. "We're here!" Hutch said dramatically, throwing the car into park with a flick of his wrist.

"T'rrific!" the brunet grunted as he slowly righted himself into a sitting position, rubbing his shoulder where it slammed into the door from his partner's erratic driving. Starsky heaved a heavy sigh, feeling the aches and pains in his whole body. "Anyone ever tell ya that ya _need_ to take driving lessons, Hutchinson?"

"Sorry, buddy. Just wanted to wake you up." Hutch took another long look at his dark haired friend. "You know, you really look like shit, Starsk. Maybe I should run up and tell Dobey that I'm taking you home and putting you to bed."

"Are you propositioning, Blondie?" Starsky joked lamely, reaching for the door handle. "Just in case you ain't up on current events, I don't swing that way."

Hutch snorted and said, "You don't know what you're missing, pal!" The blond detective opened his door to the obnoxious sound of his horn blaring, drawing the attention of several pedestrians until he slammed the car's portal with a hefty push. "Forget the idea of you and me jumping in the sack, buddy. No time right now. I'm sure Dobey already knows we're here."

"Really? What makes you think that?" Starsky said sarcastically as he dragged his heavy body out from the car. "You really need to get that damn horn fixed, Hutch!" The brunet blinked back the sudden wave of dizziness that came over him as he stood, feeling the strong arms of his partner suddenly wrap around his biceps.

"Whoa there, Starsk." Hutch said softly, supporting his friend before he crashed to the pavement. "I got'chya, buddy. How you doing, huh?" The tall blond stooped a little so that he could give his partner the once over. "Think you can make it?"

"'M fine." Starsky said, breathing heavily, shaking his head to clear the residual lightheadedness. The brunet blinked several times then took in a deep breath through his nostrils, letting it out slowly. "Must've forgotten to eat or somethin' … low blood sugar and all that . . ." the brunet smiled lamely.

"Right." Hutch said, unconvinced; concern and worry marring his handsome Nordic features. The past several months had been rough on his dark haired friend. The case they'd just solved had taken its toll on them not only physically, but its devastating effects had severed the relationship between Starsky and Samantha Elliot, a records clerk in the department.

At first, Hutch liked the spunky black haired, green-eyed cop because Samantha made his partner happy. Five months ago when they'd started dating, Starsky had been on cloud nine, coming into the squad room strutting and prancing around; smugly eluding to nights of passionate lovemaking with the buxom brunette. It wasn't too long afterwards that both detectives were put on night surveillance at the docks, trying to solve an on-going drug smuggling case, which often left both men tired and irritable. There was no time anymore to think, much less to cater to a clingy girlfriend who soon grew tired of being stood up for the job. In no time at all, the temperamental and impatient woman gave Starsky an ultimatum and then the dreaded boot out the door. Though Starsky never spoke of it, Hutch knew his partner really cared about the girl and missed her something awful.

The handsome blond glanced over at his partner once more. "You sure you okay? I can take you home right now." As Starsky shook his head, Hutch sighed and said, "Alright c'mon, let's go, you stubborn ass."

"'Kay," Starsky murmured. The brunet attempted to stand on his own, feeling his partner's grip easing slightly. "Really Hutch, I'm fine now. Thanks. Guess I didn't sleep too well last night and I'm payin' for it this mornin'."

"You couldn't sleep?" Hutch queried. "Were you dizzy last night too?"

Starsky rolled his eyes at his overprotective partner. "No. I was fine thank you very much. Jus'wired up or somethin'. Had a weird dream last night."

"About what?" The tall blond asked, and then grinned as he saw his olive toned partner begin to blush. "Must've been some dream you had there, buddy. Haven't seen you blush like that in a long time. Who was the girl?"

"Don' know, but she was incredible! The best sex dream I had in ages, which is pretty pathetic since I haven't had any real sex for a while now. I guess that's why this dream was a wet one." The brunet snorted, his face turning redder at his admission.

"A wet dream, huh?" Hutch laughed. "High school much, Gordo?"

"Yup. Haven't had one of those since I was a kid." Starsky said, his sapphire blue eyes twinkling. "That dream was something else, Hutch. And the chick in it? Man, she was hot! Long black hair all shiny and shimmering . . ."

Hutch shook his head, a huge smile still plastered on his face. "Buddy, you need to get laid real soon or you're gonna have to invest in more sheets."

Starsky smirked. "Either that or where a rubber every night. Cheaper that way!"

Hutch laughed at that. "In any case, we better get a move on it before Dobey starts chewing our asses. He's waiting in his office."

"We in trouble again?" Starsky asked as he followed the blond into the station, shards of pain raced to his brain with every movement of his aching body and the brunet struggled to keep the grimace from his face. Wouldn't do for his partner to see him wincing.

"Don't know," Hutch called over his shoulder as they climbed the steps that led to the squad room, "He just said for us to be there before nine," Hutch added, looking at his watch. "And that would be in three minutes and counting . . ."

"STARSKY? HUTCHINSON? In my office NOW!" The familiar booming voice belted down the hallway causing the detectives to briefly stop and stare at each other.

Starsky snorted then shrugged. "Maybe you better invest in a new watch, Blondie." The dark haired cop laughed as his partner rolled his baby blue eyes.

"C'mon meathead!" Hutch grinned, throwing his arm around his friend's shoulder, "School boys first . . ."

_**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**_

Her mind drifted back to her partner whom she left behind in New Orleans to wrap up their investigation. Getting clearance from Franklin for her vacation had been easy enough, especially since he'd been pushing her to take one. She smiled as she replayed her partner's surprise in her mind's eye . . .

"_Three weeks? He gave you three weeks?"_

"_Yes, three. Count 'em and weep, Thatcher!" Mari said smugly, holding up three slender fingers in the air. _

_Justin grinned as he turned the car into the lane that led to airport. "If I didn't know better, I'd have thought maybe Franklin owed you a "favor," but since it's you, Miyamoto, and we both know how prudish you are . . . "_

"_Thatcher?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Shut up!"_

_Green eyes sparkled with mirth as Justin chuckled and turned to glance at his petite partner. His quiet laughter increased as Mari, still holding up three fingers, slid the two outer fingers down, leaving only the middle one standing._

"_Tsk, Tsk Mari-san. That is so very impolite and un-Japanese-like of you to do that." Thatcher said, turning his attention back to the road._

"_My father often said," Mari replied softly, using a dramatic oriental dialect. "'To be heard, one must speak the language of the other.' I knew you would understand that gesture loud and clear, Thatcher. I am most honored to accommodate myself to using your "language" so that comprehension can be gleaned." Mari put her hands together and bowed humbly over them, which made her partner laugh even harder._

_Turning the wheel, Justin entered the airport. "Yessiree Bob! That's how I like my women . . . humble and submissive. I've always liked them sexy Asian broads!"_

_Mari blew her bangs up in frustration. "I give up, Justin. There's no helping you."_

_Justin Thatcher grinned and winked. "MMM-MMM . . . did I ever tell you that I love when you say my name? It just about gives me a hard-on every time you say it, hon."_

_The dark haired woman smiled and shook her head. "Okay partner, you can just drop me off over at curbside. I'll check in and you can leave . . ."_

"_Nope. I'll walk with you to the gate. Don't want you to get lost, Miyamoto." Justin_

_grinned as he parked the car and got out._

"_Right!" Mari said with a smile. "Gate number 34. Lead the way, Agent Thatcher."_

"_Justin, remember?" The tall agent winked, his green eyes twinkling mischievously as he extended his arm to the young woman, waiting for her to take his hand._

_Mari snorted then handed her partner her heavy luggage instead. "Here you go, stud."_

_Justin Thatcher frowned, holding up the suitcase. "Hey, wait a minute," he called, as his partner turned and walked down the corridor to the gate._

"_You're a gentleman first and a horny toad second, remember?" Mari threw over her shoulder, her dark brown eyes sparkling with mirth. She quickly walked up to the check-in area, long dark hair swinging provocatively._

_Thatcher shook his head and smiled, following obediently behind his petite partner._

_They waited, sitting on uncomfortable plastic seats, watching the people coming and going, making small talk until her flight number was called out on the airport PA system._

_Mari turned to look up at the handsome agent who stood at the same time she did, warm green eyes captured and held her own with a look that made her heart beat faster. The petite agent cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Well . . ." Mari smiled, feeling a bit awkward all of a sudden. She looked up into the familiar green eyes that seemed to grow softer somehow. "Take care of things here . . . and take care of yourself, Thatcher," she added as an afterthought. _

_Justin Thatcher chuckled and made puppy dog eyes at his petite partner. "Does that mean you actually care about me, Miyamoto? Be still my beating heart," the green eyed agent drawled dramatically, dark long lashes fluttering coquettishly as he clutched at his chest. _

_Mari snorted and lifting her slender hand to gently lay it over his heart, her fingers ran lightly along the breast pocket of her partner's suit only to end up playing with his tie. "Care about you? No . . ." she whispered so softly that the tall agent had to bend his head to hear her quiet voice. "It just means that I don't want to go through the hassle of training another partner s'all." Mari grinned and began to turn away when Justin Thatcher suddenly grabbed her hand and whipped her around to kiss her hard upon the lips._

_Electricity arced between the couple as travelers and airport staff milled about. Mari suppressed a moan as the kiss gentled to something almost tender, making her head spin with want and desire. She could feel his hands running through her long hair only to press warmly against the line of her back, pulling her even closer to him. His tongue licked at her lips; hesitantly asking permission to enter. She opened her mouth slowly, loving the feel as their tongues merged and played as one._

_Coming to her senses, gasping as they broke apart; Mari quickly pushed her partner away. Her eyes were wide with stunned amazement as she traced her reddened lips with her fingers. She could tell Thatcher was affected as well; his pupils were blown with desire leaving only a thin ring of green around the dark center. His eyes softened with affection as he gazed into her eyes._

"_Wha' was . . .?" Mari stuttered, her wide, almond shaped eyes searched her partner's face, watching the familiar cocky grin morphing over Justin's look of sudden tenderness._

"_That?" Justin interjected, his voice rough with emotion. "That …was to let you know that there will never be another partner in your life that you'll have to train or hassle with." Thatcher smiled gently at the look of confusion on Mari's face. He leaned down to whisper softly into the shell of her ear. "Because my love, I am yours, now and forever until death do us part."_

"STARSKY? HUTCHINSON? In my office NOW!"

The sudden bellowing snapped Mari out of her silent musing and she startled as she focused her gaze on the hefty black man sitting before her.

"Sorry." Dobey said gruffly, clearing his throat. "Seems like that's the only way those boys get a move on it."

Mari laughed. Dimples made their appearance with her smile, and she quickly tucked a dark, stray tendril behind her ear. "It's okay, Captain. It's nice to see that some things haven't changed around here."

"It appears you have though . . . a lot." Dobey smiled kindly. "Seems I remember a shy, young woman who jumped at her own shadow when you left us, but look at you now, Mari!" The large black man shook his head with wonder, his dark eyes shining with pride.

"Guess working for the FBI toughened me up some." Mari replied, a shy smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, "Thank you. I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for you, Captain."

"I'll hear none of that," Dobey said, waving away the young woman's thanks. "I just gave Reece Franklin your name. You got in all by yourself." Captain Dobey took a sip of coffee from the Styrofoam cup he held. "So I guess Reece really pulled it off and created that Special Crimes Unit he was always dreaming about."

"Yes, he did and he got federal funding for it as well. Gathered psychics and people with special "talents" from one end of the continent to the other, taught and trained them to work together as a team to solve "unsolvable" cases especially if there were any paranormal inklings attached to the crimes. No one really knows that our division exists, Captain, so . . ."

"Yes, I am aware of the ramifications involved so don't worry." Dobey reassured the Asian woman. "The boys don't even know what you're really doing. They just know that you were working towards getting hired by the Federal Bureau of Investigations. I don't think that you . . ."

"'Mornin' Cap."

The slamming of the door against the wall cut short what the large black man was about to say and he glared angrily at the jean-clad, curly haired detective who casually sauntered in, followed closely by the tall, lanky blond who quietly closed the door behind him.

"Starsky! Watch the door!" Dobey scolded, but his scowl soon turned to a smile as he saw the sapphire blue eyes widen with recognition. He turned to look at his other detective whose jaw was hanging open.

"I don't believe it," Hutch whispered, shaking his head with wonder.

"Hi David, Ken." Mari said, rising to her feet. "Remember me?"

**To be continued . . .**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning****:** "The Chosen" is a paranormal/supernatural dark tale and contains some sexual content, foul language, and hurt scenes that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I truly do not want to offend anyone and it is never my intentions to do so. Please consider yourself warned.

_A/N: A big mahalo (thank you) goes out to the readers who cared enough to review. It is always nice to have others come along for the ride and your warm words of encouragement meant a lot!_

_Love and light . . . Shawne 'til Dawn._

~The Chosen~

**~ Chapter Two ~**

Starsky was the first to recover from Mari's surprise visit and memory had served him well if the big smile on his face was any indication of it. Twinkling blue orbs roamed up and down the small-framed woman who quickly stood before him. "Remember you?" the dark haired cop frowned, his eyes narrowing as he eyed the woman. "Nope, can't seem to place you. You know her, Hutch? Saw her mug shot somewhere before?" the brunet scowled.

Hutch frowned and tilted his head to the side, sky blue eyes perused the woman who smiled shyly and self-consciously tucked a silky, black tendril behind her ear. "Hmmm," Hutch said squinting, rubbing the contours of his chin between his thumb and index finger. "Can't say I know her, buddy. Maybe we arrested her for skipping town a few years ago."

"Or maybe we busted her for breaking her promise and not calling home more often!" Starsky playfully scolded, which made Mari laugh and then blush even more.

Dobey snorted and then grinned. "Alright boys, stop harassing her. It's no wonder Mari stayed away so long with you both harping on her all the time."

"I've missed you too, guys." Mari said, dimples appearing in both cheeks as she flung her slender arms first around the curly haired brunet, then around the tall, handsome blonde. Stepping away from Hutch's embrace Mari laughed, her almond shaped eyes shimmering in happiness. "It's been a long time!" Though she kept a smile on her face, Mari wondered at the sudden prickling energy she felt when she hugged the dark haired detective.

"And you're beautiful, like always." Hutch said, his voice rich with fond emotion for the young woman who blushed even more.

Starsky grinned and eased his aching body into one of the seats fronting the captain's desk, "Well you're back now and it's about time you decided to slum with us for awhile, kid. We missed ya!"

"So what've you been doing with yourself, Mari?" Hutch asked as he steered Mari back into the seat she vacated. "I mean, we haven't heard from you in . . ."

"Three years." Mari finished. "It's been three years since I spoke with any of you. I'm sorry it's been so long, but . . ."

"But you're here now." Dobey interjected. "And that's all that matters right?" The hefty black man raised a thick black brow as he eyed his men from across the expanse of his desk. "We're proud of you Mari, for what you've accomplished since leaving Bay City."

"Yeah, heard you're workin' with the Feds now." Starsky said, a playful smirk tweaking the corner of his mouth. "Big time FBI agent, huh?"

"Yup." Mari said smiling, "Finally got a job and a place to call home now."

"You must be busy," Hutch said. "How do you like working for the Federal Bureau?"

"It's good. Tiring sometimes, but good." Mari replied.

"So you've been busy then," Starsky asked, sharp blue eyes reading the weariness in Mari's face.

Mari sighed. "Yeah, been working a case that we haven't been quite able to piece together. It's been a while since I've been able to just sit and relax like this. Just got in from New Orleans today."

"New Orleans, huh? Hutch chimed in. "Heard a lot of scary stuff goes on down there—voodoo, witchcraft, sacrificial rituals . . ." The tall blond detective surreptitiously eyed his suddenly quiet partner and grinned knowing the brunet was sometimes superstitious and frightened of the unknown, but his smile soon disappeared as he saw his partner subtly wince and change his position on the hard seat. Lines of concern etched Hutch's forehead as he nonchalantly watched his partner from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah," Mari agreed. "In fact, we were called down there to investigate a possible homicide. They found a man in bed. His corpse was shriveled and dried up, as if all the liquid had somehow been removed from his body." Mari watched Starsky closely as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wondering for the umpteenth time why David's photo was found at the scene of a crime on Bourbon Street of all places.

She titled her head as she silently pondered over the sudden dark energy she had felt emanating from David when she first hugged him. Her senses were on high alert and she could feel herself worrying about the brunet. For a brief moment she stared at Starsky and shuddered as a vision of writhing bodies glistening with sweat rocked together in passion; straining for the pleasurable release that only an orgasm could bring . . .

At the sudden quiet in the office, Mari snapped back into the here and now and realized that she was still staring at the dark haired detective. Trying to inconspicuously get control over her breathing, she blushed again feeling everyone's eyes upon her. She dropped her own eyes to her hands that were clenched tightly together on her lap. "I'm sorry," Mari said shaking her head, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. "I d-don't think I was even at liberty to disclose what I just shared about the case."

"Don't worry," Captain Dobey said gruffly. "That information won't get passed this office." His men quickly nodded in agreement.

"Thanks," Mari smiled, lifting her eyes once more to look at the men in the room. "I know I can trust my family." Her smile slowly faded as she took in the frown on the brunet's face. "What's wrong, David?" she asked.

Starsky shook his head, only to regret the jarring motion as it increased the pounding tempo in his head. "I don't know. Seems like I remember a similar case to yours right here in Bay City." The brunet looked at his partner. "Remember Hutch? The farmer . . . um . . .what's his name? That guy was found in a motel room all shriveled up and dehydrated just like the guy you found, Mari. Remember Hutch? It wasn't our case, but they were talking about it for days. Seemed like the guy was almost mummified or somethin', making him look way older than he really was."

Hutch snapped his fingers. "Yeah, I remember now. John Beam . . . uh . . . no, not Beam," Hutch said looking up at the ceiling as he searched his memory. "It was John Ba . . .."

"Barnes! John Barnes!" Starsky interjected excitedly.

"Yeah, Barnes," Hutch agreed. "And he was a rancher, not a farmer. Owned a 20 acre spread north from here, and he raised cows I think."

"Yeah, that's right!" Starsky said. "His death was never solved, if I remember right. No one could explain what caused it either."

"Well, we could call down to records and have them dredge up the file on that case," Dobey added, looking at Mari. "Who knows, maybe you can take a look at it and see if it might be tied into the case you're working on now."

Mari shrugged. "Won't hurt to look it over, I guess." The Asian woman glanced up at Starsky as he stood while Dobey reached for the phone to make the call down to R & I for the record.

"Okay then," the brunet said, smiling down at Mari. "I'll go pick up the files and be right back."

"Thanks, David," Mari said, as the detective made his way to the door and turned the knob. She studied the way he stiffly walked and wondered once again if something was wrong with Starsky. She rubbed her arms inconspicuously, trying to rid the goosebumps that suddenly rose on her skin as she thought of her vision. Was she seeing the last sexual moments of the man in New Orleans? Sometimes Mari cursed her "gift", wishing there was a more definite answer than the vague flashes of insight she often received from the fickle universe.

"Wait a minute, Starsk," Hutch called out. "I'll go get that file. You can go get Mari a cup of coffee or something." The tall blond detective quickly stood, but stopped in mid stride as his partner waved him back.

"Nah," Starsky said, "You go get Mari some coffee. I gotta use the 'can' anyway. Be right back with that file."

Hutch frowned as the door closed and he turned to look at Mari, seeing the same concern reflected in her dark, almond shaped eyes.

_**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**_

"Well, well . . . look who finally has the balls to show up!" The well-stacked brunette smirked from behind the counter in Records. Her dark red nails looked like drops of blood as she ran her hand along the base of her neck, only to drag it lower to blatantly caress the swell of her voluptuous cleavage that peeked out from the gaping vee of her unbuttoned uniform top.

"Hey, Sammy," the curly haired detective nodded in the direction of the woman standing before him, his bright blue gaze following the blazing trail of fiery red nails as they lingered near the creamy peaks of her breasts. Catching himself, Starsky quickly looked up to familiar green eyes that narrowed as Samantha glared at him.

"You got the file that Dobey wanted?" Starsky asked politely, immediately regretting his decision to come for the folder himself. He could sense the animosity radiating out from his former girlfriend and it made him feel suddenly tired and unwilling to create an ugly scene. It had been a while since the brunet saw Samantha and it made his heart ache with a longing he'd thought he'd buried. Starsky smiled and winked, hoping it would ease the tension that arced through the room. "Ya think I can have it anytime soon, Sam? You know how the Captain gets if he has to wait."

The records clerk turned to reach over and grab a manila file folder sitting at the top of a stack of other folders on her cluttered desk. Samantha flippantly held the file in one hand and then sneered and leaned forward, propping the bottom of her chin upon the back of her other hand, her elbow resting on the countertop that stood between them. The policewoman's eyes blazed as they raked over the handsome brunet. "Yeah?" the brunette snapped. "Well I hope Dobey kicks your fucking sweet ass darling, because you aren't leaving until you hear what I have to say."

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Hutch tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the elevator, only to suddenly turn and take the stairs instead. He could feel himself worrying and silently berated himself for over-reacting, even as his feet flew down the concrete steps in his haste to get to the department that Samantha Elliot worked in.

Opening the door to the stairwell, Hutch let it close softly behind him and made his way over to R & I, stopping just behind the partially opened door to eavesdrop as he heard his partner's familiar voice.

"Look, Sammy," Starsky said with a sigh. "I think we've been down this road before. There ain't no reason to re-hash everything. Just give me the folder and I'll leave."

"Leave and go back to your lover boy?" Samantha mocked, her lips lifting in a sneer that marred her pretty features. "Don't think I haven't heard the whispers and the jokes about you and your pretty partner, Starsky. You made me the laughing stock of this department, pretending to be out on surveillance every night while you were fucking Hutch's ass instead. Do you think I'm stupid? Don't you think I hear the rumors about you two?" The brunette raised her voice angrily. "You're a prick, you know that? I mean, what did you expect me to do, huh? These past three months you've been hiding behind your partner's skirts, sending him down here whenever you need a stinking file instead of facing the music yourself. And now you waltz in here like nothing's happened, and you expect me to carry on like everything is normal?"

"Sam," Starsky growled softly, turning to see if Charlie Collins, another cop who worked with Samantha, was listening in on their conversation. "Calm down!" Starsky whispered, simultaneously nodding and smiling at Charlie who looked over his shoulder at the couple, then shrugged and continued working on his report.

"Calm down?" Samantha snapped, her already shrill voice raising an octave to scream incessantly at the dark haired detective. "You have your fucking nerve to tell me to calm down, you bastard!"

"Sammy, listen to me," Starsky sighed. "I don't know what happened . . . what went wrong. All I know is that you weren't happy. You were angry with me all the time and you wanted out. I just gave you what you wanted . . ."

"Oh, so you want me to believe that you're the martyr now, is that right?" the brunette shouted, not allowing the man to finish his sentence. "Is that how you're playing it to keep your precious image safe? I would have more respect for you if you just admitted to being gay and that you fuck Hutch every . . ."

Starsky reached over the counter and grabbed the brunette's wrist, "Calm down, Sam!" he said, his voice a firm, but quiet rasp. "You don't even know what you're talking about. You need to . . .

"Fuck you!"

The slap came out of nowhere, whipping Starsky's head to the side from the force of the blow. The sharp sound of flesh upon flesh caused Hutch to finally make his presence known as he angrily stood in the doorway.

Green fire fused to smoldering sapphire as Starsky turned to look at the brunette. "Don't you ever touch me again, you asshole!" Samantha hissed, rubbing her wrist after she yanked it away. "You lost that right 3 months ago!"

"Samantha . . ." Starsky began again as Hutch came to stand beside him.

"What the hell is going on?" Hutch asked, a frown making the groove between his brows deepen.

The buxom woman turned her glare upon the fair-haired detective and sneered derisively. "Oh, here we go. Now your white knight has arrived to rescue you, princess," Samantha mocked. "What's wrong Ken? David gone too long for your liking?" The brunette glanced down at her wristwatch. "Oh my god, he's only been here five minutes and you can't wait to come sniffing around looking for his fine ass! You two make me sick! You should get a room!"

The intense glare from pale blue eyes made the woman look away and though Hutch bristled in anger, he forced himself to soften his gaze as he turned to look at his partner. "You got the file buddy? Dobey's waiting." The blond detective snatched the forgotten folder from the countertop and handed it to Starsky who silently shook his head and left without saying anything else to the furious woman.

Hutch angrily watched as his partner left the room, making sure that Starsky was out of earshot before he blasted the bitch who bristled before him. The blond detective turned his icy blue gaze upon the offensive brunette. "You broke up with him because you think there's something going on between him and me?" Hutch snorted derisively. "You're an idiot, Sammy, and I for one am glad you lost my partner because you certainly don't deserve a good man like Starsky!"

Samantha Elliot felt the color drain from her face as the tall blond turned to leave, but Hutch quickly looked over his shoulder at the older man who stood to the side of the counter. "What's that, Charlie? You said something?"

Charlie Collins turned to look at Hutch, a sneer curling his upper lip. "Yeah, I said you're a fucking faggot, Hutchinson. Sammy here, can do way better than your gay partner. You young cops, you think you're God's gift to the world and I think that you . . ."

Charlie swallowed hard as he suddenly found himself slammed to the wall, the large fist that crumpled the crisp starch of his uniform made the older man cringe. Icy blue eyes froze the blood in Charlie's veins and he gulped as the full blaze of the golden sun scorched his soul.

Hutch leaned in close to whisper into the shell of the shorter man's ear. "Don't think that I don't know how rumors get spread around here, Charlie. It just goes to show you how stupid Elliot is to listen to you. Maybe that's why the both of you can't get that promotion you've been itching for, leaving you both to rot down here in the dungeon with nothing but stink moldy files to keep you busy all day."

Hutch let the older man go abruptly, letting him fall to the floor only to pick him up by the collar and gallantly dust him off. "Now, I think," Hutch said softly as he hovered over the shorter man, making a show of dusting Charlie's uniform. "That you and your pathetic cafeteria cronies should shut your dirty mouths before I shut it for you. Do you understand, Charlie? Nod if you do." Hutch said with a threatening smile as Charlie Collins nodded vigorously.

"Good boy, Charlie!" Hutch grinned, chucking the older cop under his wobbly chin and settling him back on his feet. Turning to glance once more at the beautiful brunette, Hutch shook his head sadly. "Too bad, Elliot. It's really your loss. No one would have loved you more or have been more faithful to you than Starsky! You know, it's really ironic, Sam, that you would lose someone as great as Dave just because you listened to rumors created by jealous idiots. I give my partner so much credit. He's not one to listen to idle gossip. In fact, he gives everyone the benefit of the doubt, until proven wrong. It must just break his heart to realize that you really are a stupid bitch, Elliot, especially since he never listened to the rumors floating around here about your gullible and malicious personality, giving you the chance you wanted, only to have you blow it away with your moronic, petty jealousies. Go figure." The tall blond shrugged, and then dusting his hands as if what he touched were filth, Hutch saluted both record clerks and walked out of the room in search of his partner.

The handsome blond detective found his dark haired counterpart in the men's restroom on the second floor. Starsky stood with two hands pressed against the tiled wall; his dark, curly head hanging down between his arms, the manila folder all but forgotten on the edge of the sink.

Hutch frowned as he heard his partner breathing hard, almost like he was winded from walking up the short flight of stairs. It irritated the blond detective to no extent to realize that Starsky had conveniently forgotten to tell him the real reason of Samantha Elliot's break up. To think that his partner's relationship ended indirectly because of him, and that Starksy would keep it from him pissed Hutch off royally.

The brunet quickly stood to his full height when his partner entered the restroom, though he refused to make eye contact. Instead, Starsky walked over to the other sink and turned the faucet on, cupping his hands to splash water on his face.

"You mind telling me what Samantha was talking about back there, buddy?" Hutch asked firmly, eyeing his partner's flushed cheeks.

"It's nuthin', Hutch. Jus' drop it!" Starsky said. Though it was spoken softly, anger tinged the edges of his words; a concealed warning that made the blond pause before he angrily continued his tirade.

"No. Don't brush me off. You tell me now, Starsk. What the hell's going on?" Hutch pushed, pale blue eyes flashing silver.

"I said to drop it, Hutch!" Starsky snapped, turning angrily to face his partner, only to clutch the side of the sink as a wave of dizziness overcame him. The dark haired detective closed his eyes, breathing hard. His long dark lashes looking like smudges against his suddenly pale cheeks.

Concern instantly replaced any residual anger the blond felt just moments ago as he quickly reached out to steady the brunet. "Hey, you okay, Starsk?" Hutch asked, after giving his partner a moment to just get his breathing under control. "You gonna hurl?"

Eyes still closed, Starsky swallowed hard and then shook his head. "Nah. 'M okay. Just turned too fast, I guess." Starsky opened his eyes slowly then sheepishly looked up at his partner who still held his biceps. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought, huh?" Dark blue eyes, both weary and sad, connected with Hutch's and the tall blond swallowed hard at the pain reflected in the familiar sapphire depths.

The dark haired detective slowly straightened his knees, locking them in place as he stood to his full height once more and Hutch cautiously let him go, once the blond made sure that Starsky was steady on his feet.

Starsky snorted self-consciously and lifted the file from the sink's edge. "We better get this to Dobey before he splits his gut bellowing for us to hurry it up."

Hutch frowned, concern evident in the baby blue color of his orbs. "You sure you okay, Starsk? This is the second dizzy spell you had today."

"Hey," Starsky grinned, as he patted his longtime friend on the back. "'M fine. Jus' need to take a nap or somethin'. Let's hurry and get this back to Mari and then maybe I'll have time to take a . . ."

"They left," Hutch interjected. "The Captain took Mari to her hotel room at the Plaza to get her settled in. Dobey said she looked tired and should get some rest before the party tonight. He knew she just flew in from New Orleans." Hutch said. "Anyway, we're all going to meet tonight at Huggy's. We'll give it to her then."

"Yeah?" Starsky said, dark brows rising in question. "Dobey was okay with that?"

Hutch shrugged. "Guess so. He didn't say anything about it. In any case, the Captain and his family will be there too."

Starsky grinned and wiped his face with a paper towel. Squashing the cheap paper with one hand, the brunet tossed it into the trash receptacle. "Okay then," he said, tucking the manila folder under his arm, as he made his way to the door. "Let's get a move on it. Maybe if we leave now, I can catch a few winks before picking you up tonight."

"Sure, buddy," Hutch said, deftly pulling the file out from under Starsky's arm as he walked through the door his partner held open. "I'll hold on to this then, since you'll probably forget it in your haste."

"Huh?" Starsky queried.

Hutch chuckled, "You know how you're always late, Gordo. Can't have you forgetting the file as you rush around like a chicken without your head." Hutch paused as he again gave his partner the once over, "Man, Starsk, you really look like shit. Maybe you should just skip tonight."

"What? And miss all the food?" Starsky grumbled good-naturedly, glad that the subject of his former girlfriend was dropped by the wayside. "I don't think so, buddy. Not when the food and drinks are free."

The tall blond snorted and placed his free arm over his friend's shoulder. Hutch smiled, knowing Starsky thought he had cleverly evaded their discussion about Samantha Elliot, but the tall blond detective would wisely let it go for now; knowing that he'd bring it up again in the near future. Right now, his first concern was for his partner's health and welfare. Starsky looked bone weary and though he tried to hide it, Hutch knew his partner was in pain, not only physically, but emotionally as well. The soft-hearted blond pushed down the anger he felt as he thought about Samantha Elliot's callous treatment of his longtime friend.

"Gotta stop with the mother-henning, Hutchinson," Starsky said tiredly with a smile in his voice, as if sensing his partner's thoughts. " Can't have you hovering over every breath I take tonight, buddy."

Hutch laughed as he followed his partner out of the restroom, knowing Starsky was reading his mind once again. They were so in tuned to each other. Often able to sense each other's thoughts or finish each other's sentences. It was their special connection that probably saved their lives out on the streets every day as they took risks that no other cops would dare to do.

"Yeah?" Hutch said grinning, as he walked beside the brunet. "Just make sure you brush your teeth then before you pick me up. Who's gonna take care of you if I faint from your bad breath?"

"Funny. Very funny, Blondie," the dark haired cop wearily smirked then continued, "Hey, did anyone ever tell you that you missed your calling?" Starsky asked, sapphire eyes twinkling mischievously. At Hutch's silent frown, the curly haired cop playfully went on. "Your calling . . . you missed it, Hutch. You should have been a comedian, not a cop!"

"Meathead!" Hutch said with affection, locking his arm around his partner's head, rubbing the palm of his other hand vigorously over Starsky's dark, sable curls.

The two detectives, one light and the other dark, walked down the corridor snorting and jostling each other with their shoulders, enjoying their own company, oblivious to the open stares and derogatory whispers of the other department employees.

**To be continued . . .**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning****:** "The Chosen" is a paranormal/supernatural dark tale and contains some sexual content, foul language, and hurt scenes that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I truly do not want to offend anyone and it is never my intentions to do so. Please consider yourself warned.

~The Chosen~

**~ Chapter Three ~**

He shivered with need as long red nails traced the definitions on his abdomen and soft, moist lips the color of blood, followed in their wake. He could feel the inadvertent spasm of muscles in his stomach clench when her slippery tongue swiped across his feverish skin. His breath came out as harsh gasps, his back arching off the mattress, damp hands fisting into the bedding. The tangle of sheets tightened around his legs, seeming to hold him captive for the dark haired woman who sat above his lean hips. His body ached for her, striving to join with hers as she moved seductively above him.

He gasped again, sucking his breath in as her cold hands grabbed his hard shaft, spreading the moisture she found at its tip until his manhood was slick and shiny. He moaned, unable to control the desire flaring within; wanting her, needing her, he was so close to the edge. He could feel himself ready to explode, his hands reaching for her, holding her gyrating hips still so that he could slip himself into her fiery depths.

The sudden loud ringing caused the woman above him to suddenly stop her motions, her dark hair whipping in the air as she turned to stare at the beside table, her green eyes narrowing in irritation and anger.

Starsky groaned, unable to stop his hips from thrusting up, searching for the warmth he so desperately needed, his body shivering uncontrollably. The constant ringing was splitting his skull and he needed it to stop.

"_Sleep . . ." _

A rasping hiss whispered in the shell of his ear, long fingers curling possessively in his hair, holding his head still.

The ringing was incessant, hammering his brain into shards of glass. Starsky groaned again, unable to ignore the relentless tearing sound that reverberated in his head. He broke free of her grasp and reached across the bed, his body protesting the sudden movement as he blindly groped for the phone with his hand.

"_Stay with me . . . sleep!"_

Her voice was insistent, demanding and angry. Angry like the slash of red that was smeared across her lips.

Heavy, dark lashes struggled to lift despite the woman's attempt to keep his eyes closed with her fever hot kisses. The perpetual ringing was a drilling spike in his head, persistently dissipating the erotic spell she wove over him. Starsky's hand fumbled for the telephone handle, desperately needing for the hammering in his head to go away.

"_Noooooo!" _

The sibilant scream echoed throughout his skull, piercing the inner walls of his eardrums, increasing the pounding tempo in his head, as he finally wrenched his eyes open. The brunet groaned softly, pain radiating out to every part of his body. He pushed the heel of his right hand against his forehead, hoping to lessen the pressure that wanted to break free and explode as he lifted the receiver to his ear.

"H'lo?" he mumbled, scrunching his eyes shut once more, the stabbing pain in his head made him want to throw up. He breathed heavily through his nostrils, trying to quell the bile that churned from the bowels of his abdomen.

"David? Hey, are you okay?"

Starsky swallowed, attempting to get his gut under control before answering, breathing through the nausea that ripped through him, his body felt bruised from the inside out, feverishly aching and heavy like a ton of bricks.

"David? You there? It's me . . . Mari."

Starsky let out a short breath, struggling to control the cramping pain that tore through his mid-section. He could feel rivulets of perspiration running down his back and his arm snaked across his middle to wrap around his heaving abdomen. The dark haired detective shook his head to clear the residual fogginess that still ensnared him. Dazed blue eyes searched his room for the phantom seductress wondering if it had really been just a dream. She seemed so real . . . so beautiful . . . with her long black hair and green eyes . . . so wickedly tempting . . . like Samantha Elliot.

"David?"

The dark haired detective rapidly blinked then squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his index and middle fingers between his brows, forcing himself to focus on the voice coming through the line. "Yeah, sorry—I'm here." Starsky's graveled voice sounded strange even to his own ears and he cleared his dry throat to start again. "Hey, Mari . . ."

"I'm sorry. I woke you, didn't I?" Mari interjected, unable to mask the worry she felt, fear emanating loud and clear through the telephone line as the dark, erotic images faded from her mind.

Starsky rapidly blinked back the dizziness that wanted to overwhelm him, focusing instead on the concern he heard in Mari's voice. "It's okay . . . had to . . . had to get up soon anyway," the groggy detective finished lamely as he glanced at the clock next to the telephone."

"Were you dreaming?" Mari asked.

"What?" Starsky frowned and closed his eyes once more, pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate the pressure building in his head. "I don' . . . don' know," the brunet said, blinking his eyes open again. "I mean . . . I guess I was . . ."

"What were you dreaming about?"

"What?" Starsky held back a groan as he tried to sit up, pulling his aching torso against headboard. "I don' remember."

"Oh." Mari said, biting her lower lip in trepidation, closing her eyes in frustration, still seeing the erotic images dancing behind her lids. She could have sworn the man in her vision was David, but it was dark and hazy, the details unclear and fuzzy. Mari wanted to ask more questions, but she hesitated, hearing the confusion and weariness in the brunet's voice. It was quiet on the other end of the line . . . too quiet.

"David, are you feeling okay?"

Starsky frowned, then sighed. "Yeah. M'fine. I think you asked me that before. Why the questions, Mari? What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter. You just . . . well, you looked tired today in the Captain's office, like you were feeling under the weather or something and I was concerned," Mari said, smiling as she heard the soft snort that came through the line.

"Aw, don't tell me you've already taken lessons from Hutch?" Starsky said chuckling. "You gonna mother hen me all night too, Mari?"

"Depends."

"Depends? On what?" Starsky asked, dragging his uncooperative body to sit at the edge of the bed. He couldn't understand why he felt like shit. Maybe he did have the flu after all.

"Depends if you need some mother-henning or not." Mari said, her soft laughter stilling when she heard Starsky groan. "David? Is everything alright? Are you okay?"

"'M fine," Starsky said. "Just stood up right now. Guess I'm jus' startin' to feel my age; either that or I need a new bed. Too many lumps in the mattress can damage a person's spine!" the brunet joked.

Mari chuckled. "Well, like I said, you did look like you were feeling under the weather today," Mari replied. "Guess that's why I was worried."

"Nah. Nothin' to worry about," Starsky replied, dragging his hand wearily through his tousled curls. "I guess I just didn't get enough sleep the last couple of weeks, Hutch being sick and all."

"Hutch was sick?" Mari reiterated.

"Yeah, a week or so ago. He had the flu. Maybe I picked up the bug from him or somethin'," the brunet said looking once more at the clock. "In any case, I better get a move on it if I'm gonna get Hutch and me to Huggy's on time."

"Well, um . . . that's the reason I called you," Mari said hesitantly. "I just called Hutch begging for a ride to Huggy's. He was just about to jump in the shower, so Hutch wanted me to call you up and he told me to tell you that he would drive tonight instead. Is that okay?"

"What? Have you ever seen that car of his?" Starsky said with a snort. "Hope you're up to date on your tetanus shots."

Mari laughed out loud. "Okay then David, go hop in the shower and we'll be there soon. See you in a bit."

"Yeah, see ya!" Starsky said, smiling as he hung up the phone. The dark haired detective stretched his aching back and then absently rubbed a palm over his chest.

His mind drifted back to the sultry woman in his erotic dreams. There was hunger and fire in that seductress; she had an almost desperate need that wanted to consume him, and yet; she remained illusive and vague whenever he tried to recall her features. The dark haired detective frowned. He knew she had a body that wouldn't quit, beautiful ebony hair, red lips and long nails stood out in his mind's eye; but other than that, Starsky couldn't remember anything else about her.

Thinking about the dream woman made him long for Sam. Samantha Elliot was one beautiful broad and they had had some good times before all hell broke loose. To think that Sammy would betray him like that caused Starsky's heart to ache. Who would have thought she would be the very one to judge and condemn him for his friendship and partnership with Hutch. If anyone should have understood the detective's bond, it should have been his girlfriend. She was a cop herself for crying out loud!

The dark haired detective sighed as he made his way to the bathroom, turning the water to hot as he yanked the shower curtain closed. Starsky made his way over to the sink, cupping his hands to splash water over his face, hoping it would shake the lethargic feeling that wanted to drag him down. Blinking droplets from his long dark lashes, Starsky peered at his reflection, at the dark circles that bruised the area under his eyes. Man, Hutch was right. He looked like shit boiled over.

He continued to gaze at himself in the mirror. Glassy blue eyes drifted lower to his torso, widening in surprise at what he saw. The dark haired detective frowned, his hand automatically reaching for the streak of red that smeared brightly across his lower abdomen. He carefully rubbed a finger through the line of color, vaguely remembering the feel of hot, moist lips trailing down his feverish body.

"What the fuck?" Starsky whispered, watching his fingers stain when he rubbed them together. The brunet lifted his fingers to his nose and a chill came over him.

'_Lipstick?' _

The fine hairs at the back of Starsky's neck suddenly stood up as realization hit, his mind flashing back to the blood red lips of his phantom lover. He could feel the cold finger of fear run up his spine.

The sudden lancing pain in his side took his breath away and Starsky clutched at his ribs until the pain lessened to something more tolerable. The weary brunet dropped his head and closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of the blood red lip color that slashed eerily across his midsection. "What the hell's goin' on?" he mumbled to himself.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Huggy's place was packed as usual when Mari and the detectives walked in. The regular patrons were already sitting at the bar, while others were racking up the balls at the pool table. Being here brought back fond memories for Mari of a Thanksgiving celebration shared right at this place several years before with her adopted family. Mari's face lit up as she saw a black woman stand towards the back of the room.

"Mari, over here, honey!" Edith stood and waved excitedly from the large table. Harold Dobey gently pulled his wife back down to her seat and crooked his finger at his men with a frown.

"The master beckons you," Hutch whispered to his partner, winking at Mari, a playful grin plastered across his handsome face.

"Yeah, and he don' look to happy neither." Starsky said glumly. "You first, Mari. The Captain won't yell his head off at you for being late." The dark haired cop inconspicuously rubbed his side, feeling the bruising ache that continued to painfully throb since he'd gotten up from his nap.

Mari laughed as she stepped protectively in front of the two detectives and raised her tiny hands in a defensive gesture. "Stay behind me boys, I'll defend your honor with my karate chops."

Hutch grinned. "Now that's what I like to see. A lady who can hold her own with a two ton man."

The tall blond detective turned to eye his quiet partner, not missing the fact that Starsky seemed to be favoring his left side. Since picking the brunet up at his place, Hutch could sense that something was not quite right with Starsky and it bothered him immensely. He could feel himself wanting to turn around and steer his partner right back to the car to take him home to bed where he belonged.

Though the brunet hid it well, Hutch could tell that Starsky felt like lousy. It wouldn't surprise the blond if his partner collapsed right where they stood. The glassy eyed expression, flushed cheeks and plum colored circles that darkened the area under Starsky's eyes were the exact replica of what Hutch looked like when the flu had him in its devastating clutches just a few weeks ago.

As Mari forged ahead, Hutch gently grabbed onto his partner's forearm. "Hey buddy, you sure you feel up to this? You don't look too great, pal."

Starsky looked into Hutch's pale blue eyes that softened with the concern he felt. The weary brunet forced himself to snort and said with a smirk, "Hovering already, Blondie? The evening ain't even started yet." Starsky playfully pushed his shoulder against his partner's and winked. "You better let me go, Blintz, or people might wonder if there's some truth to all that gossip about us at the department." The brunet wagged his brows suggestively at the tall blond.

Hutch let Starsky's arm go, feeling himself blushing for some strange reason. "Don't think you can fool me, buddy," the tall blond whispered firmly. "I know you aren't feeling up to par, Starsk. Anyone would have to be blind not to see that, and furthermore I think . . ." Hutch held up his index finger warningly.

"Aww Hutch! C'mon man, it's a party for crying out loud," Starsky huffed. "Let's tuck that mother hen apron of yours away and let's go have some fun, huh? Okay? Please?" The dark haired detective batted his long lashes beseechingly, bringing a smile to the blond's lips.

"Okay," Hutch conceded, not able to deny his friend anything when Starsky made those puppy dog eyes at him. "But remember Starsk, I'm still in helicopter mode! I'll be breathing down your neck and hovering over your shoulder all night long."

Starsky snorted and shook his head, patting Hutch's shoulder as he walked on by. "Hover all you like Hutch, as long as you brushed your teeth, buddy, it's fine with me."

Hutch laughed out loud and followed in his partner's wake, making their way to the small gathering of close friends and loved ones; smiling as they saw Mari's small frame embraced by the tall lanky black man dressed in a loud magenta jumpsuit who greeted her enthusiastically and then turned to the two men who followed closely behind.

"Starsky, Hutch!" Huggy greeted. "It's 'bout time you two dudes showed up. The big man ain't too happy ya dig? He was jus' 'bout to put out an APB on the three of you, weren't you, Captain?"

Dobey glared at the skinny proprietor of the bar and grill, then turned his attention to his men. "What took you so long?"

Starsky glanced at his partner, wondering what excuse Hutch would make up. They would have been on time had he not fallen back to sleep after taking a hot shower. One minute he was sitting at the edge of the bed, a towel wrapped around his hips; and the next minute, Hutch was shaking him and telling him to wake up.

As he hurriedly dressed, Starsky listened to Hutch's impatient rambling of how he and Mari were parked outside waiting and chatting for a while before they realized that the curly haired detective wasn't coming down as expected. After several rude honks on the horn, a concerned Hutch raced up the flight of stairs to his partner's apartment finding Starsky fast asleep, hair still damp and clad only in a towel. Now standing in front of Dobey's scowling face, it surprised the brunet when his partner remained quiet.

"Well?" Dobey said gruffly, a dark brow lifting as he eyed his two silent detectives.

"Well what, Cap?" Starsky finally said with a grin. "We're here, ain't we? No thanks to that hunk of junk we had to ride in. You should've expected us to be late. You know what Hutch drives." The brunet winked at his partner.

"Hey," Hutch grumbled. "Talk about no appreciation."

"I'm sorry, Captain, it was my fault," Mari chimed in. "I made the guys late. Had them change their plans to pick me up or they would have been here on time. I hope I didn't cause a problem. I was going to rent a car, but I haven't gotten around to doing it yet."

"Oh," the rotund man said, clearing his throat, an awkward smile suddenly appearing on his chubby features. "No, no problem, Mari. I just hoped they didn't make you wait too long." Dobey said, turning to look at his men. The black man frowned as he eyed his dark haired detective. "You okay, Starsky?" the Captain queried. "You look like crap."

"'M fine, Cap." Starsky mumbled. If the truth were known, he felt like crap, but hell if he was gonna let Hutch know that. As it was, the blond was already breathing down his neck. He could feel Hutch's concerned look burning a hole into his back. Starsky sighed and refused to make eye contact, glancing around the table instead, his eyes brightening up at the sight of Rosie Dobey, who was growing like a weed. "Hey Rosie, how's my favorite girl, huh?" the brunet said, walking towards the youngster.

Hutch frowned as he watched his partner make a hasty retreat. He turned his gaze away only to catch the worried look on Mari's face. The petite Oriental woman made her way over and stood beside the tall blond.

"He's not doing too good is he?" Mari whispered softly, her dark eyes never leaving the brunet's weary face as he chatted amiably with Rosie.

"Starsk shouldn't be here tonight, but you know how stubborn he can be. He didn't want to miss out on the fun."

"What's wrong with him, Hutch?" Mari asked, turning her attention back to the tall blond.

"These past few months have been really rough for him. He had started seeing someone while we were trying to crack through a drug case. You know the routine . . . all night stake-outs can really wreck a budding romance, and then I got really sick. Came down with the flu and Starsk nursed me back to health. I can tell he isn't feeling well right now, and I hope he's not coming down with the same thing I had." Hutch said quietly, pale blue eyes watching his partner's very move, noting how the brunet seemed to favor his left side.

Mari's dark brown eyes softened with sympathy. "So David broke up with his girl?" Mari asked, wondering if David's ex-girlfriend was the lady she saw in her vision. In her mind's eye she could still 'see' the long black hair of the woman swaying in time with her undulating gyrations, moving her beautiful body erotically over David's. The petite Asian woman had the decency to blush and chided her "gift" for allowing her to be an unwanted voyeur on their intimacy.

"Yeah. Something like that." Hutch vaguely replied. At Mari's concerned look, Hutch found himself opening up, his baby blue eyes filled with sadness and a hint of anger as he gazed across the room at his dark haired partner. "I mean, for a while Starsk was really happy with Samantha. Sam was the kind of girl every guy dreams about having." Hutch said absently. "I'd heard rumors about how spiteful she could be, but who would have thought there really was a dragon behind her pretty face and voluptuous body."

Hutch caught himself and blushed. "I'm sorry Mari, I'm not usually so . . . so descriptive. It's just that I 'm kinda worried about our friend over there."

Mari followed Hutch's line of vision, noting his concern, but her gaze went beyond the curly haired cop to the man sitting quietly at the bar. The petite agent frowned as she caught the man's eye.

"Listen Hutch, I'm going to the ladies room okay? I'll be right back." Mari said, standing to make her way over to the barstools.

"Sure," Hutch said absently, his mind still focused upon his partner as the Asian woman walked past him.

Mari came up to the man who casually watched her make her way over to the bar. " What are you doing here?" she hissed when she came into earshot, a frown marring her pretty face.

"What? Not happy to see me?" Justin Thatcher replied innocently, green eyes twinkling with amusement. "I thought you'd be going through withdrawals by now, Miyamoto." The handsome FBI agent raised his mug of beer in mock salute then downed the glass.

"I told you I didn't need you to come with me." Mari snapped. "You were supposed to stay in New Orleans and finish up the job."

"Well, I'm happy to see you too, little lady." Thatcher winked and grinned, doing his best John Wayne impersonation.

Mari rolled her eyes and blew air up into her bangs. "Can you be serious for once? Does Franklin even know you're here?"

"Yeah he does. We found out some interesting information about the case and he thought I should be here with you in case you needed backup."

"What kind of information?" Mari whispered. She turned her gaze back to the dark haired detective who looked like he was ready to drop. She watched as Hutch made his way over to his partner, laying his large hand upon the curly haired cop's shoulder. In the dim light of the bar, the dark circles under David's bright blue eyes made Starsky's face appear almost skeletal. Seeing him like this made the young Asian woman shudder with a feeling of dread.

"Is that him?"

Mari turned to see Justin giving the brunet the once over. "Yeah, that's David Starsky and the guy next to him is his partner, Hutch."

"Huh." Justin smirked, his green eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the detective. "He always look so wasted? The dude looks better in his picture."

"He's not . . . not feeling well. Hutch thinks he might be coming down with something . . . like the flu." Mari murmured.

"Yeah . . . or maybe some demon disease." Thatcher mumbled sarcastically as he turned back to his mug of beer.

"What?" Mari asked, her dark eyes locked on the handsome agent's profile. "We're dealing with a demon? How do you know?"

"Those markings we found spray painted beneath the window of the dead guy's room in New Orleans was a devil's trap." Justin said casually, tipping his head back to down the rest of his beer.

"A devil's trap?" Mari echoed softly. "And the demon we're dealing with is . . ."

"A seccubus." Justin swiveled around on his barstool, nodding his chin in the direction of the dark haired detective. "And I don't need to be a psychic to tell you who she's targeted as her next victim."

**To be continued . . .**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning****:** "The Chosen" is a paranormal/supernatural dark tale and contains some sexual content, foul language, and hurt scenes that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I truly do not want to offend anyone and it is never my intentions to do so. Please consider yourself warned.

~The Chosen~

**~ Chapter Four ~**

Hutch and Mari sat in the car and watched as Starsky wearily climbed the steps to his apartment, turning slightly to wave at them before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

They sat quietly for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Mari shivered as naked limbs and heated bodies flashed through her mind once more, leaving her feeling weak and nauseated. _'Could that have been the succubus she was seeing instead of an intimate memory that David had of his ex-girlfriend?'_

"You cold, Mari?" Hutch asked with concern, immediately rolling up his window.

"No, I'm fine. I guess I'm just worried about David." Mari replied, biting her lower lip in apprehension as she glanced at the detective beside her. "Hutch?"

"Yeah?" the tall blond answered, turning the key several times in the ignition to bring the dilapidated car to life.

"Could I ask you something?" Mari hesitantly began, as Hutch shifted the car into reverse and then pulled out onto the main street that would lead them to town where he would drop Mari off at the Plaza Hotel.

"Sure you can. Anything." Hutch said absently, his eyes locked on the road, alert to the traffic around him.

Mari twisted her hands on her lap, took a deep breath and forged ahead. "I know this isn't any of my business and all, but I was wondering what Samantha looked like?"

"Samantha Elliot?" Hutch asked, raising his brow in question. At Mari's nod, the tall blond frowned, but continued. "Well, she's pretty, I'll give her that. Long, black hair, a lovely smile, green eyes . . ."

"And a body that won't quit, right?" Mari finished for Hutch who grinned, then blushed.

"Yeah . . . that too." Hutch replied sheepishly. The handsome blond took his eyes off the road for a brief second and then gazed at the small woman beside him. "Why the interest, Mari?"

Mari frowned, her mind rewinding to her brief conversation with Justin at the bar . . .

"_A succubus?"_

"_Aye. Nasty bitches the lot o' them." Justin said stiffly, imitating a fairly decent Scottish accent. The handsome FBI agent grinned, downing his second brew in one gulp then wiping his mouth on the cuff of his sleeve, his green eyes flicking affectionately over Mari's features. "Ye do know what a succubus is don't ye, darlin'?"_

_Mari rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Of course I know what a succubus is. It's a demon who takes the form of a beautiful woman to seduce men while they sleep. In European medieval legends, it was said to believe that the succubus would often lie with men to steal their seed, especially priests or monks, who had taken of vow of chastity. It was said that these demons drew energy from the men they lay with, often to the point of exhaustion or the death of their victims."_

"_You never fail to surprise me, Miyamoto." Justin said, chuckling as he motioned to the woman behind the bar for another beer. Catching the barkeep's attention, he turned back to his partner. "I mean, I never knew you were so knowledgeable about demon sex." The handsome agent grinned lasciviously then said, "In any case, what a way to go huh?" Thatcher snorted. "I mean if you have to bite the dust anyway, you might as well go out with a bang! Those seccubi are supposed to be hot . . ."_

"_We done here?" Mari disgustedly interjected, her eyes drifting back to the two detectives who sat smiling next to the young black girl. Mari's attention dropped to the sudden warmth on her hand, surprised to see Justin's hand firmly holding her own against the smooth grain of the bar top. Dark brown eyes lifted to lock onto green. _

"_Just be careful, Miyamoto. From what Franklin says, it's not just your average every day seccubi. This one is dangerously powerful, and Franklin believes that she's been summoned by someone as a tool for vengeance. Whoever is holding the leash and controlling this demon is a clever bastard, knows how to trap the seccubus after the deed is done. Franklin did some more research and found out there is a type of seccubi who can literally suck the life out of a man from obtaining his essence. Three times is all it takes and that man is a dried out corpse. Sounds familiar?"_

"_Three times?" _

_Justin chuckled lewdly and said, "Yeah, the she-demon gets the guy to blow his load three times and then he's dead meat. Each time the poor bastard gets off can comes, he gets weaker and weaker as his life force is drained until three strikes and he's out. The poor dude won't know what hit him until all that's left of the idiot is a Mohave Desert prune." _

_Mari closed her eyes and shook her head with repulsion at the vision her partner's words incurred. "Crude much, Thatcher" Mari said dryly. At Justin's snort, Mari continued, "Does Franklin have any other information on this demon and the one who's controlling her?" Mari questioned._

"_The team is working on the leads we've pulled from the other victims. I think we're close."_

_Mari pulled the manila file that Hutch gave her from her bag. "Here, tell Franklin to check this one out too. A corpse was found a while back in Bay City. The victim's remains were similar to ones we've been finding. Maybe there's a tie-in to our case."_

_Justin idly flipped through the papers in the folder, raising his dark green eyes to his partner's after reading some of the information. "You read this yet?" At the negative shake of Mari's head, Justin frowned and returned his eyes to the papers, quickly scanning the rest of the contents. "I'll get this to Franklin as soon as possible, in the meantime Mari, be safe and stay in contact with me."_

"_Give me your number." Mari said sarcastically._

"_You know what I mean," Justin growled. "Keep your damn shields down at all times. I need to be able to "sense" you and keep tabs of your whereabouts—especially because we know your friend is next on the hit list."_

"_Yes sir!" Mari saluted smugly, dimples appearing in both cheeks. "I hear and obey, master!"_

_Justin's eyes grew serious. "I mean it, Mari! If anything were to happen to you, it would just . . ."_

_Mari's dark brown eyes searched the green-gold depths of Thatcher's eyes. "It would just what, Justin?" she questioned softly._

_Justin Thatcher sighed and ran his hand through his thick hair, lowering his long, dark lashes to hide the emotions in his expressive eyes. _

"_Justin?" Mari gently pushed._

_Dark lashes lifted to reveal pain filled eyes. A tic appeared in Thatcher's strong stubble covered jaw line._

"_You can tell me, partner," Mari said, her heart skipping a beat with the tension that filled the air between them. A part of her wanted to run away, afraid to hear what Justin was going to say, intuitively knowing it would forever change things between them and yet, a bigger part of her needed to hear his words. "It would just what?" _

_Mari watched as her partner's Adam's apple bobbed when he tried to swallow down the emotion that never left his eyes. The tall, dark agent cleared his throat uncomfortably, his voice was but a whisper as he said, "It would just . . . kill me if anything happened to you, Mari. So promise me . . ." Thatcher said, grabbing her hands hard in his own, softly repeating, "Promise me that you'll stay connected to me and leave your shields down so I can "feel" you at all times. Promise me . . ."_

"Mari?" Hutch called softly for the third time, breaking through the young woman's memories and drawing her back to the present. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about something." Mari said apologetically, kicking herself mentally to stay in the game. Daydreaming like that could get them all killed.

Hutch smiled, "Good. For a while there, I thought you might be having one of your 'episodes'. Do you still have those visions of yours?"

Mari smiled. "Unfortunately I do, but at least I've kind of gotten a hang of it and I can now use it to help people in my line of work."

"Really? Just what do you do in the FBI, Mari?" Hutch asked, taking his eyes off the road to glance once more at the small woman sitting quietly beside him.

Mari bit her lip in indecision. Their unit was a special division sworn to secrecy, but in this case, since it revolved around David's well-being and safety, both detectives had a right to know. Didn't they?

"Well, I work with a special crimes unit in the FBI. We get called on cases where there appears to be some kind of paranormal activity involved." Mari hesitantly began.

Hutch frowned. "You mean you're like a gun-toting medium or something?"

Mari laughed. "No. It's like they let us use our abilities to find clues or answers to cases that others agents might not be able to."

"So you mean you have a lot of psychics in your unit?" Hutch asked, his sharp mind trying to piece together the information given to get inkling on what Mari's job entailed.

"Yes. There are many of us. Some of us are psychics, others have different paranormal "gifts", but we use them to help the Federal Bureau find answers to unsolvable crimes."

"And that shriveled body you found in New Orleans . . ." Hutch began.

"We found several corpses with the same M.O. They were all men, and all of them were shriveled and gray with dehydration. It was like the life force of those men were sucked out or drained from their bodies." Mari softly chewed on her bottom lip, "You know Hutch, I'm not suppose to tell anyone about our unit. I could get in a lot of hot water, but I really feel you have to know. I came here for a reason. I mean I've always wanted to come back to Bay City to visit with you and Starsky, but you need to know that this time, I'm here for work related reasons too."

"Work related?" Hutch reiterated. "And so you're saying that somehow we're involved with this case you're working on? What's going on, Mari? Tell me."

"Hutch, pull over." Mari said softly, then waited until the tall blond steered his battered car to the side of the road. The female agent took in a deep breath, making a decision that she felt she could stand behind.

Hutch cut the rambling engine, and then turned to look at the small woman. "Okay, tell me, Mari. Everything."

Mari nodded then took in a deep breath. "Okay. My partner, Justin Thatcher, and I have been on this case for a while now. So far, there have been four deaths that we feel are related to this case. With the file you gave me tonight, the count might go up to five. That rancher you told me about, John Barnes, died years ago and it scares me to think how long this killing spree has been going on."

"Okay, so besides John Barnes dying here in Bay City, how is any of this related to Starsky and me?" Hutch asked, his pale blue eyes searching Mari's face.

"Well, we found a picture of David in a motel room on Bourbon street. The corpse was in that room and . . ."

"Wait a minute," Hutch jumped in. "A picture of Starsky was found where?"

Mari sighed. "In New Orleans. His picture was found in a room used by the hookers on Bourbon Street, in the French Quarter. The victim's corpse was lying on the bed and David's picture was found on the floor between the bed and the nightstand."

"Hold on, just . . . just wait a minute" Hutch said. "So are you telling me that you think Starsky might be involved in these murders?"

"We think he might be the next victim," Mari said quietly. The agent's soft words sent chills racing up the blond's spine, but her next sentence blew Hutch out of the water.

"In fact, I know he is, Hutch. I've seen it happening already. I think that's why he's so weak and tired. David is the next victim and if we don't play this right he'll die."

"What the hell is after him, Mari?" Hutch asked, his heart beating faster as they spoke quietly together in the dead of the night. His mind flashed back to images of Starsky rubbing his shoulder, lying so still on the bed wrapped only in towels, his dark head hanging between his arms as he leaned upon the tiled wall of the men's restroom.

"We think it's a succubus."

"A what?" Hutch asked, helpless frustration tingeing his voice. "What the hell is that?"

"Okay, Hutch, you have to stay calm. I know you're worried. I am too. We both love him very much and it is our natural instinct to want to protect those we love, but you have to stay calm."

Hutch took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Tell me."

"A succubus is a demon who . . ."

"A demon?" Hutch interjected, raising his hand to stop her words. "Just wait a minute, Mari. This is too much. I don't believe any of this."

"Believe it or not, Hutch, it's real, and she's after David. Now you can listen to me or not, but I'm going to need your help." Mari said firmly.

"Alright," Hutch whispered, "I'm sorry. It j-just seems a little far fetched and hard to swallow right now."

"I totally understand, but if you've seen some of the things I've seen over the years, Hutch, you would believe me when I say that demons do exist."

Hutch let out a breath he was unaware he'd been holding. "Okay. S-So a succubus is a demon . . ."

"A demon who takes the form of a beautiful woman so that she can seduce a man while he sleeps. These demons draw energy away from their victims each time the victim reaches orgasm, often to the point of death for the unlucky man." Mari said softly, her cheeks growing warm with the blush that rose from her neck. "Legends say that the succubus might also be responsible for men having wet dreams. I guess it was a way to explain why men woke up in the morning with. . ."

"Wait a minute . . . d-did you just say wet dreams?" Hutch interjected. His mind raced back to Starsky sheepishly telling him about his erotic dream and admitting to losing it like a school boy once more. He could feel the cold finger of fear racing down his spine. Everything was spinning out of control. _'Could everything Mari said be really true?'_

Mari cleared her throat, feeling uncomfortable talking about anything sexual. "Um . .. yeah. Well, um . . . wet dreams are . . ."

"I know what a wet dream is," Hutch said quickly, his own neck and cheeks turning red. "I mean, you don't have to explain _that _to me." Hutch dragged his hand through his golden locks, the highlights in his hair shining under the dim streetlight they were parked under.

"Okay," Hutch whispered. "Okay. So this . . . this demon is after Starsky. You've actually seen this happening … like in a vision?"

Mari blushed profusely. "Yes. I "saw" David making love with someone. At first, I thought I was tapping into the memory of his ex-girlfriend. The woman in my vision had long, black hair and her body was . . . well she was beautiful like how you described Samantha, but after talking with Justin; I realized that it had to be the succubus I was seeing. David seemed so ill all day and if a succubus was draining his life force, then it would make sense. Justin says that after the demon makes David reach sexual gratification for the third time he will die. Hutch, I need you to find out how many times she's visited him. It is imperative that we know. In this case, time is of the ess . . ."

Mari closed her eyes sharply as the vision came, cutting her sentence short. She could see them thrashing on the bed. Long, black hair hung like a curtain over the man who moaned softly beneath the woman, pumping his lean hips erratically as he strived towards climax.

"No." Mari breathed, her heart pounding, chills racing through her slight form, her head shaking in denial. "No!" Her almond shaped eyes snapped open as she frantically grabbed onto Hutch's arm.

"What's wrong? What's going on? Hutch shouted.

"Turn back, turn back, Hutch! She's there. It's happening right now. We've got to wake David up. Hurry . . . hurry before it's too late!"

**To be continued . . .**

A/N: Hey all—hope you are enjoying the story so far. Thanx for staying with me on this weird ride. I know a lot of you in the SH fandom don't really care for the paranormal twist, but I like this type of genre for some strange reason. Just a quick FYI to let you know that though Seccubus are female, they have a male counterpart called the Incubus too. Both seccubi and incubi are sex demons and they do relatively the same thing, the difference between the two being the gender. That, my friends, was your quick lesson in Demonology 101 LOL! Love to you all . . . Shawne 'til Dawn


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning****:** "The Chosen" is a paranormal/supernatural dark tale and contains some sexual content, foul language, and hurt scenes that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I truly do not want to offend anyone and it is never my intentions to do so. Please consider yourself warned.

_A/N: Aloha Everyone,_

At the risk of being redundant, I must warn you that this chapter has a lot of sexual content. I know I posted the warning above; but I must stress that if you do not like reading sex scenes then perhaps you should skip this chapter okay? I really don't want anyone to be mad especially because I ain't the best writer when it comes to scenes like these. LOL. Mahalo for putting up with me.

_Love and light . . . shawne_

~The Chosen~

**~ Chapter Five ~**

He moaned softly as fiery pleasure filled his being, arching his back as long red nails stroked the hard peaks of his sensitive nipples. A part of him wondered how this could be happening. He had been so tired and aching all day; and now, he was thrumming with life. His jutting manhood was red and glistening, pre-cum leaking out at its tip.

Starsky closed his eyes in ecstasy as the woman slid her body along his own, going lower to engulf his whole cock in the slippery warmth of her mouth. He lifted his head and watched as red lips stretched tightly around the width of his mass, eagerly sucking him as he strained below her.

He couldn't breathe, his body was slippery with sweat, feeling the exquisite pressure building in his scrotum as she gently stroked her long, red nails against his velvety sac, her mouth ever moving, suckling over his hard length.

Starsky groaned, wanting to give in, yet wanting the pleasure to go on forever. He gasped as his cock popped out of the wet warmth of her mouth, closing his eyes once more when he felt her soft, smooth skin glide against his chest, moving up once again to kiss his lips. His senses were on overload.

"You belong to me," she whispered seductively, green eyes glowing in the dim light from the streets as she lifted her bottom up to slide her tight sheath over Starsky's hard shaft.

"Oh, God," Starsky gasped and shuddered, feeling the incredible warmth surrounding his length. Green eyes pierced his soul against the silky screen of her long black hair that enmeshed and hid them from the world.

'_Sam?' _

'_No, no . . . not Sam. Samantha Elliot was gone from his life. Their relationship was over. Wasn't it?'_

Starsky shook his head. Confusion ran rampant in his mind as liquid heat engulfed his being and for a minute the brunet forgot to breathe. He could feel her slick, velvety walls sliding up and down over his hard cock embedded in the moist depths of her center, her long legs splayed out on either side of his pumping hips.

"Who . . . who are you?" the detective gasped; dark blue eyes squinted as he blinked away the sweat that dripped from his lashes, his lungs burning for oxygen as she twisted erotically above him, making him groan with desire.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Can we call him?" Mari asked as she clung to the handle of the door, the LTD rocking precariously as Hutch took the turn at high speed. "Before going to Huggy's, I called David on the phone when I had another vision of him with the demon. Perhaps we can wake him up if we call again?"

"What?" Hutch snapped, his foot never leaving the gas pedal as they sped through the night, his mind was locked on his partner, wishing and hoping for his safety. Like the car's engine, his mind raced around the information Mari had confided in him . . .

_Demons? _

Hutch barelyrecognized the existence of God especially after all the horrific things he'd seen on the streets. Yet, he remembered going to Church as a boy, and praying to a benevolent being. So if God did exist and there was good in the world, wouldn't the opposite also hold true? He'd seen enough evil to last him a lifetime, but evil usually came in the form of men, or guns, or drugs, or prostitution . . . but demons? Hutch mentally shook his head, hearing Mari's voice in the background of his thoughts. He needed to focus. Starsky's life depended on it . . .

". . . On that radio of yours. Can you call David? If we can get him to wake up, then we might be able to delay the demon from taking him."

"No, w-we can't make outside calls on this radio, but we can call dispatch." Hutch said, shaking his head with disgust. "Now why the hell didn't I think of that?" Hutch quickly put in a call to dispatch, his eyes never leaving the road. "Millie? This is Zebra Three. Are you there? Pick up. This is Zebra Three. It's Hutch!"

"Zebra Three, this is Dispatch. What d'ya want, Hutch?" The playfulness in Millie's voice came out loud and clear and Mari had to smile despite the anxiety she felt within.

"Millie, I need you to do me a favor and call Starsky's house, then patch me through, okay?" Hutch asked quickly.

"What is this, Hutch? I'm not a telephone operator y' know."

Hutch let out an exasperated breath, struggling to not lose the ends of his already frayed nerves. "Millie. Please. For me. Just do it. I'll owe you one. **Dammit!"**

"Holy crap, Hutch! Jesus! Hold on, **grouch**!" Millie said irritably. They could hear her patching them through, then the sound of a phone ringing on the other end. "Here you go, _officer_!" Millie said sarcastically.

Hutch took in a calming breath, knowing they were almost at Starsky's place. The exit lane was coming up which would take them to his partner's neighborhood. "Thanks Millie. I owe you big time."

"Look, don't thank me, handsome. Just take a bit of advice okay? You really, really need to get laid, Hutch, so that you can take off some of that steam you got building up inside you. It'll help you relax! Let me know if you need help with that honey, okay? Over and out!"

Mari chuckled as Hutch stuck his middle finger in the air and flipped the radio the bird.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Starsky closed his eyes as the feeling of euphoric ecstasy washed over him. He was on the edge of a precipice looking down at the jagged rocks below. A part of him wanted to fall over, knowing that in death he would find the ultimate pleasure. His mind struggled to make meaning, knowing this was but a dream. His head was pounding, whether in pleasure or pain, he couldn't tell. He needed release, could feel it hanging just out of reach. He strained his muscular body towards it, towards fulfillment that only the woman above him could bring.

The dark haired detective gasped, his long dark lashes were spiked with perspiration as he thrust his hard shaft in and out of her slippery depths. "Feels so good . . ." Starsky groaned.

The ringing of the phone shattered his brain into splinters of pain, dragging him from the pleasures of his dream.

"Ungh!" Starsky groaned, his eyelids were too heavy to lift, but the ringing was incessant, hammering away at his skull, forcing the bright blue orbs of his eyes to roll back and forth beneath his lids. He turned his head to the side, pressing it against the pillow, trying to shut out the piercing sound that shoved shards of glass into his brain, and yet, things were still murky. It felt like he was underwater, struggling to reach the surface of a deep, dark lake.

"No! You belong to me," the woman's sibilant hiss reached his ears. He felt her straining above him, reaching over to push the telephone off the table, the clattering sound of the phone striking the floor only added to the loud, pounding beat of Starsky's head.

"Sleep," the beautiful woman murmured once the ringing stopped, twisting the internal muscles of her molten heat, making the man beneath her cry out as she milked him with her wetness.

"Starsk? Starsky?"

The dark haired detective gasped. He knew it was Hutch. Hutch's voice, so familiar, so comforting . . . so insistent . . .

"Wake up, buddy, answer me dammit!"

Starsky struggled to open his eyes, feeling the woman's lips upon his lashes, adding to the heavy weight of his lids. "Sleep," she enticed. "You belong to me." She twisted her hips once more, squeezing his shaft with her wet, moist cavern, wrenching a cry once more from his lips. The succubus smiled eerily in the dark, feeling his hard shaft about to burst. Triumph was hers.

Starsky gasped. He so close to the edge . . . so close . . .

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hutch took the stairs three at a time, fumbling with the key. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction as the key turned in the lock and the door slammed violently against the wall with a loud bang. Mari was right behind him as they ran to his partner's bedroom.

"Nooooo!" Mari screamed as the bedroom door slammed shut by itself right before their astounded eyes. Yet, she saw it. They both did. The dark silhouette of a woman gyrating erotically above Starsky, the generous fullness of her breasts hanging over his naked torso was glistening with sweat.

"Starsky?" Hutch shouted, pounding frantically on the door. They could faintly make out the groans coming from the curly haired cop as he struggled towards consciousness. "Wake up! Wake up right now, buddy" Hutch hollered, rattling the locked doorknob in frustration. "Starsk! Open your eyes right n-now . . ."

Hutch stammered in surprise as Mari suddenly pushed him out of the way. The blond blinked in confusion as he felt a strong force rip past him, only to have the door suddenly smash open, violently breaking apart, splintering wood shattering with a loud groan.

"What the hell?" Hutch whispered, seeing the tall, dark haired man who stood in Starsky's hallway wearing a long, black trench coat with his hand held out towards the now gaping bedroom door.

Justin Thatcher wasted no time, rushing past the dazed blond into the bedroom while simultaneously whipping out a clear plastic bottle with a nozzle spout on the top. ""In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti," the handsome agent shouted the Latin words to begin the rites of banishing the demon. Justin forcefully squeezed the bottle in his large fist, squirting a clear liquid onto the back of the succubus.

Hutch stopped in mid-stride, his mouth opened in horror as the demon screamed in pain and anger, smoke erupting from the tracks the liquid left on her skin.

"Nooo!" Mari screamed as she saw the demon raise her hand in the air, curving long talons, black as onyx, growing out from where her red nails used to be. The succubus slashed her hand in a downward arc, sadistically sinking her razor sharp claws into the tender flesh over Starsky's left ribcage, embedding them deeply as she hissed and sneered at Thatcher. Justin once again squirted more liquid from the bottle, never pausing in his incantation, familiar Latin words spewing from his lips. Wherever the liquid touched, black smoke came from the succubus and filled the air with a stench that was nauseating.

"Starsky!" Hutch called out, watching helplessly as his friend cried out both in ecstasy and in agony, pain mixing with pleasure, his back arching as the succubus clenched above him, milking the detective's orgasm from the man beneath her, feeling his essence spurt within in her while simultaneously raking her claws across her victim's muscled abdomen to his sternum, leaving a trail of five dark gouges, all of them glistening red with blood.

The succubus screamed once more as more liquid sprayed upon her, turning her into a cloud of black smoke that swiftly dissipated out the open window. Justin tossed the bottle to Mari who caught it with both hands. The tall agent shouted, "Stay here, check on your friend," then he rushed out of the front door without another word.

"Oh my God!" Hutch whispered brokenly, feeling his limbs grow rubbery with shock, wanting only to sink down to the floor, yet the soft sounds of his partner's gasps snapped him out of his despair. "Starsk?" The blond made his way over to his dark haired friend who clutched at his ravaged flesh, blood leaking out from between his fingers.

"Oh, God Starsky," Hutch said, reaching out a shaking hand to hover over his partner, watching as Starsky struggled to lift his long dark lashes to reveal sapphire eyes filled with pain and confusion. "It's okay, buddy. I'm here. It's gonna be okay." The tall blond murmured absently, his words sounding false even to his own ears. The golden haired cop stood near the bed, hands lifted helplessly as he stared in horror at his naked, lacerated partner.

"Hutch, you have to snap out of it," Mari said firmly, throwing a towel at the blond. "Help me. We have to try and stem the flow of blood before he bleeds out."

"Hutch?" Starsky gasped, confusion clouding his bright blue orbs. "Wha' . . . what happened?"

"You got hurt, Starsk." Hutch whispered, purposely shaking the tension and shock away as he scooted his long body onto the bed beside his dark haired counterpart, quickly covering his partner's lower extremities from Mari's view with the damp sheet.

"I did?" Starsky whispered, gasping as he tried to sit up.

"No,no, no," Hutch said quickly, gently stopping his friend from further movement. "Just keep still, okay buddy? You're bleeding. I-I have to try and staunch it." Hutch could feel his partner's fingers clutching at his thigh. " Hang on tight, Starsk. This is gonna hurt."

The tall blond closed his eyes in anguish as his partner cried out, arching his back, bucking against the sudden pressure upon his torn mid-section. Hutch could feel his friend's body straining beneath his hands, the thick white towel already beginning to saturate with bright red blood.

_Starsky's blood._

The sight sickened the sensitive blond who struggled to calm himself down so that he could reassure his suffering partner. "Buddy, I know it hurts," Hutch began softly, fighting to keep his voice even and soft, a soothing balm for the agony his partner was going through. Though he could hear Mari rummaging around in the adjoining bathroom, his ears were attuned to listening to the rapid, erratic breathing coming from his curly haired friend. He heard Mari coming back into the room and startled when he realized that Starsky wasn't breathing.

Hutch quickly looked down at his partner, realizing Starsky had turned away, pressing his sweat drenched face against the pillow. Hutch could tell the brunet was holding his breath to keep himself from making any involuntary sounds, his sweat drenched body trembling with the effort of containing his pain. "Hey, hey Starsk. It's okay buddy, just breathe, okay? You have to breathe, Starsky." Hutch said once again, his soft voice growing firmer with his demands.

Starsky slowly turned his head to look up into his partner's familiar blue eyes, seeing the pain that was mirrored in his own cobalt colored irises. The curly haired cop opened his tightly clenched lips to drag air into his lungs, only to gasp it out again as Hutch applied more pressure.

"S-stop, Hutch." Starsky gasped, his hands weakly batting against Hutch's larger ones in an attempt to lessen the pressure. "H-hurts!"

"I know, buddy," Hutch said brokenly, reaching out to grab one of Starsky's hands, placing it on his denim-covered knee. "Here, hang on to me, Starsk." Hutch said, wincing as his partner dug his claw-like fingers into the blond's thigh instead.

Hutch turned to look at Mari, then nodded his chin towards the splintered doorway. "How the hell d-did that happen?"

"Telekinesis. The ability to move things with just your mind" Mari replied. "Justin's part of the special unit I belong to."

A soft groan from Starsky drew Hutch's attention once more to his injured partner. "Take it easy, buddy. Everything's gonna be fine," the blond cop gently crooned, stroking the warm neck of the straining brunet.

"You cleaned him out yet, Miyamoto?" the unfamiliar raspy voice made Hutch turn his head towards the doorway once more, watching suspiciously as the tall man in the trench coat made his way back into the bedroom.

"Who are you?" Hutch demanded, pale blue eyes flashing to silver as they narrowed and focused on the green-eyed man who didn't bother to answer.

"No, I haven't. I was just about to," Mari answered. "Hutch is trying to stem the flow of blood first. David's already lost a lot of it."

Justin crawled onto the opposite side of the bed, facing Hutch with Starsky lying prone between them. The FBI agent gently turned the brunet's head towards him, reaching into his coat pocket to take out a small penlight. Thatcher carefully lifted the wounded detective's eyelids to check the reaction of Starsky's bright blue pupils, then ran his hand over the detective's forehead and cheeks.

"Fuck!" Thatcher swore softly. "He's already starting on a fever. The bitch's talons might have been tainted."

Starsky blinked, squinting to focus on the blurry shape hovering over him. He knew it wasn't Hutch, his hands felt totally different. "W-who are you?" the brunet raggedly whispered.

Justin grinned, "Well, I ain't your fairy godmother if that's what you wanted to know."

Starsky snorted, understanding a joke even though he felt like shit. "Yeah? Well, you ain't my . . . g-girlfriend either so . . . hands off the face."

Thatcher chuckled and then looked across at the frowning blond. "I need you to get behind your partner and hold onto your friend as tight as you can without hurting him more than he already is. Mari bring the bottle over here."

Hutch nodded and carefully scooted his lanky form behind Starsky's back with Justin's help. Mari came to sit in Hutch's spot, passing the bottle over to her partner.

"What is that?" Hutch asked softly, remembering how the liquid made the succubus scream with pain as ribbons of black smoke spewed from the tracks made by the liquid.

"Holy water," Justin murmured, his voice raspy, but gentle. His green eyes softened with compassion as he stared down at the wounded brunet. "Your name is David, right?" Justin asked.

Starsky nodded, feeling suddenly so very tired, wanting only to pass out and sleep off the pain. Long dark lashes lowered to pale, sweaty cheeks as the curly haired cop started to go under . . .

"Hey," Justin said sharply, gently patting the side of the brunet's face. "You gotta stay with us. No sleeping on the job, you hear me?"

"'Kay," Starsky mumbled, though his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, the pain in his abdomen was thankfully growing numb. Feeling Hutch's strong arms around his torso made Starsky feel safe enough to want to fall asleep. He could hear the others whispering around him, but it didn't matter what they said. Starsky focused on Hutch's gentle touches and turned his head, pressing his face against Hutch's chest, listening to the familiar sound of his partner's heartbeat. The brunet could feel himself slipping, giving in to the exhaustion and pain that ravaged his torn and battered body.

Justin looked over at Mari and nodded.

"David?" Mari said soothingly, running her fingers through the damp, sable curls as she leaned closer, her dark pupils melting into pools of compassion.

"Hmmm?" Starsky mumbled, trying to focus on the young woman floating above him. Everything appeared hazy, his vision cloudy and distorted.

"David, listen to me." Mari explained gently. "We have to clean out your wound. It's going to be painful, but you're safe. Hutch is holding on to you. Do you understand?"

Starsky barely nodded, dark lashes wearily lowering once more to press against his flushed, fever-warmed cheeks.

"Hutch?" Mari directed. "We have to pour holy water over the gouges the succubus made. It's going to burn, but that's the only way we can ensure that his wound is cleaned out. You have to hold onto David so he doesn't hurt himself because this is going to hurt. This is Justin Thatcher, by the way. He's my partner. He'll help you."

Justin silently nodded in greeting, moving down the bed to hold on to Starsky's legs.

Mari took a deep breath to ready herself. She always hated this part, but this time it was especially hard because it was personal. Mari cared so very deeply for Starsky, not only because he had once saved her life; but because both he and Hutch had become like brothers to her. The petite agent carefully lifted the saturated towel and grimaced at the sight of the deep scratches left by the demon. Mari bit the inside of her bottom lip and carefully tipped the bottle, allowing the water to slowly pour out over the bloody wounds.

The reaction was instantaneous. Smoke spewed from the deep gouges as Starsky cried out and arched into the pain. Hutch and Justin hung on as the brunet thrashed upon the stained mattress, struggling in an attempt to get free from his restraints and move away from the source of the excruciating pain that flared its way from his left ribcage, over his abdomen and up to his sternum. It burned as it went, a sizzling crackling sound rending the air as the holy water cleansed the demonic slashes.

"It's okay, Starsky," Hutch soothed, tightening his arms around his struggling partner. "Take it easy, buddy. It's almost done. Just hang on. I'm right here." The tall blond felt his eyes burning with tears and he held his partner's shuddering form in his arms. The pain Starsky was going through made the blond want to throw up. Hutch stubbornly swallowed down the bile that wanted to spew forth from his tightly pressed lips. "Shhhh," Hutch soothed as the brunet unwillingly cried out once more; his body was agonizingly stiff from the unyielding pain as the holy water sluiced through the deep gashes across his midsection.

"Take it easy, Starsky. It's almost done." Hutch said, closing his eyes against the gruesome sight, the stench of the smoke filling the room with each drop of holy water that was poured onto Starsky's wounds. For a while he listened to the ragged breathing and gasps from his injured partner, feeling sick from the tense rigidity he felt in his partner's battered body, knowing the brunet was silently enduring it all as he surfed through the pain.

"Fuck, how much longer?" Hutch snapped, wanting to stop the agony his friend was going through, only sighing in relief once his partner slumped into his arms finally escaping into the blessed oblivion of peace the brunet so desperately sought.

Mari bit her lip to keep herself from crying, concentrating instead on keeping a steady stream of water flowing over the deep wounds that bubbled and frothed on David's battered body until his flesh eventually stopped emitting smoke. She saw Hutch breathe a sigh of relief as Starsky finally slipped over the edge into the dark abyss that beckoned him, unconsciousness finally bringing the dark haired detective relief from the excruciating pain he was experiencing.

Mari continued her ministrations, making sure she did a good job. It wouldn't do to have residual poison left in the wounds by the succubus. "It's done," she finally whispered, a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and she brushed it quickly away.

"Thank God, he's passed out," Hutch murmured, resting his chin upon the dark curls that tickled his nose.

"Don't thank God just yet," Justin softly warned. "Things are far from over."

Hutch glared at the man in the dark trench coat. "We need to take my partner to the hospital. Those lacerations need to be stitched!" the blond snapped.

Justin snorted in disdain. "No hospital's gonna make your partner better or keep him safe."

"What?" Sky-blue eyes turned to ice as Hutch scowled at the FBI agent who nimbly crawled off the bed. Walking over to the window, Justin carefully drew the drapes to one side and peered out at the street below.

"You heard me," Thatcher calmly replied, green eyes darting about as he looked out into the stillness of the night. "Those wounds were made by something not of this world. Simple stitches or surgery won't heal him." The FBI agent turned from the window and eyed the blond cop. "The wounds you see on your partner will remain there until that bitch is killed or sent back to where it was summoned from. Your friend's not safe at a hospital, or anywhere else for that matter. We take Starsky to the hospital and the succubus will find him. Those gouges she made? She's marked him. There's no place your partner can hide. How do you think those other guys in the hospital bit the dust?"

"He's right, Hutch." Mari quietly agreed, dabbing a clean towel against the perspiration appearing on Starsky's forehead. "I know all of this must be difficult to understand and there is a part of you that wants to deny everything you saw here tonight," the petite Asian woman continued to speak as she efficiently began to wrap the brunet's wounds with a roll of gauze. "We have to wake David soon and keep him up. Now that the demon has marked him, the succubus will be able to find him in his dreams. There's nowhere he can hide, Hutch. David's only hope lies with him staying awake. And it's our job to make sure that he does."

**To be continued . . .**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning****:** "The Chosen" is a paranormal/supernatural dark tale and contains some sexual content, foul language, and hurt scenes that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I truly do not want to offend anyone and it is never my intentions to do so. Please consider yourself warned.

~The Chosen~

**~ Chapter Six ~**

Hutch stood on the first step of the old stone church, looking up at the crumbling, ancient structure. Green moss and ferns grew on the slabs of stone that formed the foundations of the church and at first glance, it appeared that the old chapel had been abandoned a long time ago. The steps to the back entrance of the church were steep and many, about thirty steps in all. To think that a priest still resided in this mess of stone and that parishioners still worshiped here was mind-boggling to say the least, but then again, after what Hutch witnessed last night; it would make a believer of even the most skeptical of people, and that included the weary blond.

Hutch blinked back the raindrops that clung to his pale lashes. A slight drizzle had started a while back, but it now appeared to be turning into a full-fledged storm. Though it was still in the early morning hours, the sky remained dark as rain clouds continued to gather, blocking out the waning light from the rising sun.

They had driven many miles to get here. The wind had picked up, slamming sheets of rain against the windshield of the LTD as they made their way to the church, following the directions Justin Thatcher had given them. The old rusted wipers could barely keep up with the amount of water that ran over the windshield, but the quiet hum and motion from well-worn blades helped to settle the wounded brunet and for that Hutch was thankful.

As the weary blond detective looked up the steep and crumbling stone staircase; his mind drifted to Mari's partner, the dark haired agent, Justin Thatcher.

Hutch didn't really know what to make of the man who had the ability to move things with his mind. To be honest, it was creeping Hutch out. This special unit that Mari belonged to was secreted away within the folds of the FBI and it made Hutch wonder what else the government was hiding. The thought of demons and other supernatural entities gave Hutch the willies and the tall blond wasn't too sure if it was the inhospitable elements that they braved or the fear of the unknown that made him suddenly shiver.

"Hu-Hutch?" Starsky gasped softly, tired blue eyes shifted to the tall blond, feeling the tremor than ran through Hutch's body.

Hutch smiled reassuringly at the hurting brunet. "Easy, buddy. We're here now. Take it easy. Just lean on me and let me do the work, okay?" the blond whispered. "We'll be safe once we get inside the church," Hutch soothed, clutching his wounded partner even more tightly against his side as they began to make their way up the slippery, wet steps that led to the battered wooden portal of the church.

Starsky had slept most of the way over, wincing even in his sleep as the old car splashed over potholes along the dangerous canyon roads and Hutch was grateful for what little rest his partner got. From here on in though, it would be Hutch's duty to keep his best friend awake and alive. As it stood, Hutch knew he had taken a chance by letting Starsky sleep on the ride over, but he didn't have the heart to wake him. To be a witness to the horrific scene of what went on in Starsky's bedroom made Hutch long to down a bottle of whiskey in one sitting. The blond's nerves were standing on end and it was all Hutch could do to keep calm himself. Yet, his partner was depending on him and Hutch would never let Starsky down. Not even if it killed him.

"There we go. Just a few more steps, buddy." Hutch encouraged, looking up at the daunting amount of stairs they had yet to climb. A few steps like this would have been nothing when well and healthy, but in the shape Starsky was in, climbing the steps would take them a while. If worse came to worse, Hutch knew he could just pick his partner up and carry him the rest of the way, but right now that was not an option. Starsky was adamant that he could make it on his own and Hutch would honor his friend's stubbornness and tenacity.

Listening to Starsky's ragged breathing and hurt filled gasps made the blond cringe inside, yet the brunet never once complained during their whole journey and the admiration Hutch felt for his partner increased ten fold. He watched in silent concern as Starsky clutched onto his side, the gauze Mari wrapped around his torso was already stained with more blood. If they could just hurry and get inside, Hutch could let his weary friend rest where it was dry and relatively safe.

Starsky blinked the raindrops from his eyes and struggled to keep up with his partner, feeling the fear that emanated off of the blond as if it were his own. Though things were still hazy and unclear as to what really happened in his bedroom, Starsky did know that he was hurt . . . and hurt bad. He could feel it with every agonizing step that he took, the jarring motion causing the lacerations in his side and abdomen to pull and stretch, threatening to tear the wound open again even with his hand pressed firmly against it.

Starsky glanced up at his partner seeing Hutch's determined profile as they trudged along in the wind and rain. He knew that he and Hutch were on the run and something had freaked his usually calm partner out. Later on, when they were safe inside, Starsky had every intention of questioning his silent friend, but right now, it took everything within his power to keep himself moving forward. He was breathless and looking up at the stairs he had yet to climb was overwhelming to say the least.

The sudden ringing in his ears and the black spots that danced before his eyes made Starsky suddenly stumble and the curly haired detective swallowed and looked back down at his feet. It wouldn't do to pass out right now from the dizzy spell that washed over him. It was hard to think. The excruciating pain in his mid section was intensifying with each step and Starsky knew he was losing the battle of staying conscious. Yet, he wasn't a quitter, not if Hutch's life depended on him moving his legs. If only they could stop for a minute so that he could catch his breath, then all would be well.

"Hu-Hutch?" the brunet wearily breathed out, grabbing onto the sleeve of his partner's jacket, his blood-stained fingers slipping off the wet material bringing the tall blond to a stop. Starsky slowly raised his head to look at his partner, blinking the rain from his sapphire colored eyes, struggling to control the wheezing from his lungs with each breath that he drew. The brunet weakly smiled, watching Hutch's pale blue eyes grow soft with affection and concern.

"Hey, how you holding up?" Hutch said soothingly, realizing his partner was going to collapse by the ashen color of his face. "Easy, buddy," the blond detective said as Starsky frantically grabbed onto Hutch once more, his legs beginning to give out. Hutch gently eased Starsky into a sitting position on the cold wet steps, noting the way the brunet painfully clutched at his side in an attempt to support both his ribs and abdomen. "You okay, pal?"

"Oh, I'm . . . fine . . . jus' fine." Starsky said with a lame grin, knowing his astute partner wasn't buying a minute of his bullshit. "Jus' . . . jus' gimme a minute, huh?" the brunet whispered tiredly, already out of breath, long dark lashes closing to hide the depths of his pain. The cold rain was coming down harder now and Hutch could see that his partner was freezing; his curly dark hair flattened against his scalp by the heavy raindrops.

Hutch hugged the shivering brunet closer to his own chest, adding what little warmth and comfort he could give to his hurting friend. "Just a little more, Starsk, then we'll be inside where it's dry and warm. Okay?" Hutch said softly, turning to look over his shoulder at the dark woods that surrounded the back of the stone chapel and he berated himself once again for dragging his wounded partner half way across the state in the midst of a raging storm. As Starsky rested, Hutch's mind drifted back to the moments just before they left Starsky's place to come to this God forsaken church in the middle of nowhere. . .

"_I don't care what you say," Hutch fumed, light blue eyes flashing silver shards at the dark haired agent. "Starsky needs to see a doctor. Those gouges are deep and he's lost a lot of blood. He needs medical attention and he needs it NOW!"_

"_Hutch, listen to me," Mari said softly, putting a restraining hand on the tall blond detective to calm him down. "I know that . . ._

"_No Mari, you listen to me." Hutch said. "I don't know what the fuck happened here tonight. All I know is that my partner is hurt. And even though we got the bleeding to stop, he could still go into shock and . . ."_

"_I don't think it's your partner who's in shock," Justin interjected as he glared the angry blond. "Be honest with yourself, dude. What you saw here tonight is freaking you out big time. Demons and exorcism rites are totally out of your realm of experience and now you want to run back to something safe and 'normal', but a hospital won't protect your partner or keep him safe . . . do you understand that?" _

"_Fuck you!" Hutch snapped. "Don't even begin to tell me that you know what I'm feeling. I don't even know who the hell you are. All I know is that my partner needs . . ."_

_The rumbling sound of the shaking nightstand and the trembling lamp that stood on top of it brought the blond's tirade to halt. Hutch stared at both objects and then turned his attention to the agent who stuck his fisted hands into the pockets of his trench coat._

"_Justin," Mari whispered as she turned to look at her angry partner. "He doesn't understand. You need to calm down."_

_Justin Thatcher closed his eyes; dark curling lashes hiding the angry flash of green that seared across the room at Hutch. The handsome agent took a deep, calming breath before opening his eyes once more, bringing the spontaneous movements of the bedroom furniture to an abrupt halt._

_For a moment there was no sound in the room at all, with the exception of Starsky's labored breathing. Justin turned and walked over to the brunet who still lay unconscious. The sheet covering his abdomen and wounds were damp and stained with blood. The FBI agent looked across the expanse of the room to the tall blond who stood by the window. _

"_I'm sorry," Thatcher said softly, once again in control of himself. "I know your anger stems from worry and fear, but we don't have time for these arguments. This isn't about you or what you want, Hutchinson. It's all about doing what needs to be done to save your partner. Something or someone is after Detective Starsky and we have to work together as a team to protect him."_

_Hutch took a deep breath in, pushing down the helpless frustration that wanted to surge outwards. "Okay," the blond detective finally relented. "I think for the first time we agree on something."_

_Justin Thatcher grinned, a twinkle coming to his emerald gaze. "Good," he agreed. "So glad you're finally in compliance." Mari's partner then turned back to look at Starsky, his eyes softening with concern as he carefully covered the injured man with a heavier blanket to keep the brunet from going into shock._

_Hutch and Mari rolled their eyes at the cockiness of the agent, but they could both see Justin's genuine worry for the wounded detective and somehow that little gesture with the blanket endeared the dark haired agent in Mari's eyes._

"_Alright," Hutch said, letting out a stabilizing breath. "You've both been on this case for a while now. If we are to be a team, you have to tell me what you know."_

"_Fine," Justin said as he began to throw together a medical kit of odds and ends into a duffle bag, adding in blankets and extra clothes too. "So far there have been four deaths, five with the file Mari gave me tonight." _

_Hutch glanced over at Mari who now sat beside Starsky, wiping down his brow with a cool wet cloth. "I gave the file to Justin at Huggy's tonight," the petite agent disclosed without looking up._

_Justin Thatcher continued, "I've talked to Franklin, our boss, and he thinks he's found a connection to all five men, thanks to the name that was in that file you gave Mari"_

"_You mean the rancher . . . John Barnes?" Hutch asked, his brows drawing together in confusion. "But he died a few years back. How is he connected to the recent victims?"_

"_After Mari gave me the file on John Barnes," Justin said. " I went back to my hotel room and called Franklin who started to do research on him. His corpse was exactly like the other four men we found, so we immediately knew he was connected somehow to the case. I was talking to our boss just before I "felt" Mari's distress. I followed her vibrations to this place and the rest of it you know."_

_Hutch opened his mouth to ask another question, but Thatcher raised his hand and continued. "I know you have a lot of questions, but let me finish. What our boss found out was that shortly before John Barnes died, he was having a lot of problems with a local cult that lived in his vicinity. Apparently some cultists were killing cows from several ranchers in the area, but only John Barnes had the balls to stand up to Simon Marcus and press charges."_

_Hutch's eyes widened at the name. "Simon Marcus?"_

"_Yeah, name rings a bell?" Justin asked sarcastically. "It appears that all five victims and your partner had some connection with this maniac." The tall, dark agent stood and pulled out a stack of photos from the inside pocket of his trench coat, tossing them to Hutch. _

_The blond detective grimaced as he looked at the gruesome pictures of the victims. It was hard to believe that those decrepit and dried out corpses were once men who were in the prime of their lives. "Damn," Hutch whispered, his revulsion clearly evident on his face._

"_That's what's gonna happen to your partner if you don't keep him awake," Justin bluntly reminded. "The succubus leaves her victims looking like that. We can only assume that the next time she finds Starsky, it will be the last time he'll look like himself. Three times is all it takes and he'll be a goner."_

_Hutch swallowed, turning to look at his unconscious partner. "What about the others," Hutch said. "How are they tied in to Marcus?"_

_Justin walked over to the dresser as Hutch laid out the photos. "This one here," Thatcher pointed to the glossy, " His name was Frank Oswald. He was a guard at the penitentiary Simon was imprisoned at. Though he served only a short time there, it was said he was a bastard, ruthlessly picked on the inmates, Simon included. He was eventually fired from his job and had a dozen or more occupations since then. Guess he never knew what hit him. This is the guy we just found in New Orleans."_

"_What about this one?" Hutch asked, tapping the photo placed at the end. "How was he connected to Simon?" _

"_Dr. Jason Philborne," the FBI agent lifted the picture to stare at its grisly image. "He was a shrink. Handled a lot of the state's cases for the criminally insane. Seems he also handled Marcus' case for a short time too. He moved to Wisconsin soon after." Justin placed the picture down and then turned to eye the blond detective. "The other two were former cultists who tried to escape. Apparently they also tried to snitch to the cops about Simon's activities. They were only in the cult for a short period of time and then assumed aliases. They were hidden deep in the witness protection program. Took us a while to find out their real identities."_

_Justin eyed the tall blond, taking out the last photo from his pocket. "This picture of your partner was found in New Orleans, in Oswald's death chamber." The dark haired agent carefully placed it beside the other photos on the dresser. "Franklin pulled the files on Starsky's kidnapping a few years back. He's lucky he made it out alive."_

_The blond detective silently nodded, remembering how they had Starsky trussed up by his wrists, the early morning sunlight glinting on the steel blades that those bastards were intending to use to carve the brunet up. Hutch dragged his hand wearily through his golden locks, shifting tired blue eyes from the scattered photos to the dark haired man who stood by his side. "So what now? No hospital you said, but my partner needs medical attention."_

"_Take him to see Father Thomas." Justin said softly. "I trust him. He'll know what to do and you'll be in a consecrated place. Most demons won't cross the threshold of a holy place like that. Stay there until we come for you. I'll call Father Thomas and tell him that you're coming." The handsome agent turned to look at his partner, watching as Mari gracefully stood beside the bed, her eyes dark with worry. "In the meantime," Justin sighed, his gaze softening as he looked to Mari, "We've got work to do."_

"H-Hutch?"

"Yeah . . . sorry, buddy," Hutch murmured, forcing himself to stay in the game. The blond detective shook his head, flinging droplets every which way; bright golden locks, now dark and saturated with water. "Come on, Starsk," Hutch encouraged as the rain grew heavier, his mind focused once more on the present dilemma they were facing. He gently pulled his hurting partner into a standing position. "We have just a little ways more to go, buddy. How you holdin' up, huh?"

"Been . . . better." The dark haired cop replied honestly, too tired to fake it anymore. He knew Hutch could read him like no one else did; knew that the blond could feel the trembling in his limbs. The brunet gritted his teeth to bite back the groan as Hutch gently got him to stand once more. Starsky looked up the steps they had yet to climb, the task seemed so daunting to the wounded man. His side was bleeding again, bright red droplets dripped through his fingers from the saturated bandages that covered his wounds, splashing crimson against the stone steps, only to be washed away by the rivulets of rainwater. "Let's get this over with," Starsky said, putting on his game face. The dark haired detective drew in a deep breath feeling himself leaning more against his light haired partner as they began to ascend the crumbling stone steps.

Hutch smiled at his wounded partner and nodded. His light blue eyes darkening as he noticed the red bandages, knowing his partner was once again bleeding out. "Just a little more, buddy," the faired cop whispered encouragingly and they made their way up, slowly advancing step by step. Hutch frowned as he listened to Starsky's labored breathing, knowing each step was causing his partner excruciating pain. "We're almost there, Starsk," Hutch whispered again, pulling his partner closer as the dark haired man shivered in the pouring rain.

"H-Hutch," Starsky called out as the step he placed his foot upon began to crumble, the rain quickly washing away the loose debris. Loosing his precarious balance, the dark haired cop began to fall, but Hutch quickly reached out to grab his partner's arm, harshly yanking him to keep the brunet upright.

Starsky groaned in pain, the jarring movement sending shards of molten glass into his side and abdomen. "Ungh," the brunet grunted painfully, feeling more of his flesh tearing open. Starsky clutched his side, his arm pressing hard to keep his wound stable.

"Hang on, Starsk. This is gonna hurt," Hutch said, lifting Starsky's right arm over his shoulder once more as he half lifted, half dragged his partner the rest of the way up to the battered wooded doors that lay nestled under a narrow sheltering alcove, forcing himself to ignore the painful gasps that escaped his partner's lips. Hutch gave a sigh of relief as he gently lowered Starsky to the damp, cracked concrete slab that served as an entryway into the church. "I'm sorry, Starsk. Take it easy, buddy," Hutch whispered, before standing to pound his large fist against the scarred wooden portal.

"Hey!" Hutch shouted, frowning as he saw Starsky wince from the loud noise he was making. "Hey, open up. We need some help here!" He could feel the brunet leaning heavily against his jean-clad leg and Hutch glanced down once more. "How you doing, pal?"

For a few seconds, Starsky remained quiet, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath; then bright blue eyes shifted upwards to connect with his partner's concerned sky blue orbs. "You . . . you sound like . . . Dobey sometimes."

Hutch snorted, "Only when it involves you, Gordo . . . only when it involves you." The creaking of the heavy door brought the blond's attention to the forefront as the thick double doors slowly opened and a kind faced, clean-cut man poked his head out from behind the wooden portals. Even with most of his body hidden, Hutch could make out the stiff white collar and the black garments of a Catholic priest and the blond haired cop was surprised to see that the clergyman was younger than he'd expected him to be.

"Detective Hutchinson? I am Father Thomas," the brown haired man smiled compassionately as his gaze lowered to the wounded detective, little crinkles webbed out at the corners of his light brown eyes, evidence that this man of the cloth had a cheerful demeanor and usually enjoyed laughing.

Father Thomas quickly stepped out from behind the shelter of the doors and bent down next to the fallen detective, unmindful of the raindrops that began to soak into his garments. "Oh my, he's in bad shape," the priest frowned with concern, gently lifting Starsky's good arm, intending to help, as Hutch quickly moved to the other side of his partner. "Hurry, come inside, I was expecting the both of you."

**To be continued . . .**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning****:** "The Chosen" is a paranormal/supernatural dark tale and contains some sexual content, foul language, and hurt scenes that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I truly do not want to offend anyone and it is never my intentions to do so. Please consider yourself warned.

~The Chosen~

**~ Chapter Seven ~**

Hutch breathed a sigh of relief as the thick wooden doors closed behind them, sealing the old Church from the destructive elements outside. The portals coming together were loud and almost booming in the near empty structure and the cathedral ceilings swallowed the hollow sound quickly, settling the church into sudden stillness once more; the distant sound of the storm outside becoming a soothing white noise in the background.

"Let's take him over here. I have a backroom with a pallet he can lay on," Father Thomas said, a serene smile breaking out on his face as he shouldered the heavy weight of the wounded brunet. "It's rather thin and all, but I'm sure that poor excuse of a mattress will be much more comfortable than lying on a cold and hard stone floor."

Hutch hefted his partner's weight to ease the strain on the priest as they stumbled towards the sparsely furnished, yet comfortable quarters of the clergyman. The fair-haired detective gently helped his partner onto the low bed, wincing as he heard Starsky grunting softly in pain. "Take it easy, buddy," Hutch murmured soothingly, adjusting the small pillow under the dark, damp curls. "We're safe now."

Starsky nodded wordlessly. Long, dark lashes hid the pain and discomfort he was feeling from his partner, but Hutch knew by the way Starsky was breathing that the brunet was hurting and Hutch's heart bled for his dark haired friend. The blond turned to the Catholic priest who quietly went about lighting some previously burnt candles to brighten the dark chamber room. The clergyman walked over to the simple wooden dresser and took out some packages of gauze and bandages and also a small plastic bottle.

"Father Thomas?" Hutch called softly, watching as the young priest turned to the sound of his name.

"Yes, my son?" the collared man smiled kindly.

Hutch grinned at that, since the clergyman appeared younger than himself. "My partner here is hurt and . . ."

"Yes, I am aware of that, Detective," Father Thomas murmured as he made his way over to the pallet, bringing the items with him. "Justin filled me in on the details . . . a seccubus was it?"

Hutch nodded, his eyes drifting over his partner's countenance, dark purple stains blemished the soft skin under the wounded man's eyes, evidence of the brunet's exhaustion. Starsky appeared to be lightly dozing and Hutch knew he should wake him, but he didn't have the heart to. Instead, he watched as the priest put the items on the side of the bed and deftly unwrapped the blood soaked and sodden bandages from around his friend's torso. The deep gashes were torn open again at the edges and were weeping both pus and blood.

The man of the cloth frowned as he sat back on his haunches, tugging uncomfortably at the stiff white collar at his neckline. The priest silently perused the grisly damage and then he sighed and said, "Nasty creatures these demons; especially seccubi. Your friend is lucky to even be alive, but I can see that she's marked him."

Hutch nodded again, biting the inside of his bottom lip as he worried, watching as the priest hovered over his prone partner, taking a clean square of gauze to dab lightly at the weeping wounds. Father Thomas' ministrations were precise and gentle and Hutch could feel the tense muscles in his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stood behind the priest, watching carefully as the clergyman reached over to gently cover Starsky up to his exposed torso with a thin, worn blanket neatly folded at the foot of the bed.

The clergyman laid his hand against the flushed cheeks of the wounded detective then sighed as his hand drifted downwards to hover over the brunet's left side. "He has a fever I see . . ."

"Yeah, he um . . . started on one a while ago." Hutch hesitantly interjected, his pale blue eyes watching as Father Thomas carefully examined the torn and jagged wounds on the brunet's abdomen and side. The tall blond detective frowned as the blood-stained muscles in Starsky's midsection quivered and jerked away from the gentle touch of the priest.

The brunet gasped and bolted upright knocking the blanket off, only to clutch protectively against the deep gashes that littered his abdomen. "No . . ." Starsky cried out, blue eyes feverishly bright and glazed. "D-Don't fuckin' … touch me!" The brunet painfully scuttled away from the priest, his back pressed against the wall beside the small cot, drawing his legs protectively up to his chest. Hutch remembered it had taken both he and Justin to maneuver the unconscious brunet into his worn and faded denims before they left Starsky's apartment and he knew his partner must be in considerable pain sitting folded like that with his jeans being so form fittingly tight.

"Hey, hey . . . take it easy, buddy," Hutch quickly moved next to the wounded man, making sure he held the gaze of his partner. "Take it easy, Starsk." Hutch soothed; his voice was a gentle rudder that led his friend safely away from the hazy mist of confusion that surrounded the brunet's mind. "I'm here, pal. You're safe . . . I'm right here."

"Hutch?" Starsky's voice was raspy and small, and hearing it softened the tall blond's eyes to the gentle blue color of a cornfield sky. To Hutch, Starsky looked like a frightened little boy and he longed to alleviate the pain and unease that he witnessed in his partner's tense and lacerated body. The fair haired detective smiled apologetically at the young priest who stood, and then moved closer to his vulnerable partner, needing to ease the fear he read in Starsky's familiar blue eyes.

"Yeah, buddy. Right here." Hutch continued, reaching out to gently touch his partner on his shoulder, carefully easing his long frame onto the small wooden cot to sit beside the brunet while he continued to rub small, soothing circles into the feverish skin on Starsky's back. "This is Father Thomas." Hutch continued, "We came to his church and he's going to help us. Mari wanted us to come here. She said it would be safe."

"Yeah?" The brunet swallowed down the fear that wanted to make him curl up defensively, shifting his gaze warily from Hutch's face to glare at the clergyman who smiled warmly, hesitantly raising his hand and wiggling his fingers in silent greeting. "He . . . one of the . . . one of the good guys?" Starsky breathed out, nodding his chin in the direction of the collared man.

"Yeah." Hutch affirmed softly. "Father Thomas is a friend of Mari's partner," the blond slowly repeated, his voice calm and quiet. "She and her partner, Justin, referred the good Father to us." Hutch whispered, feeling the rigidity in his partner slowly relaxing, the brunet's weary body now leaning heavily against his own. Hutch could feel the heat from his friend's skin emanating through his shirt and also the slight tremors that racked Starsky with feverish chills. The blond detective gently pulled the hurting man even closer to his side to warm the brunet up with the heat of his own body.

The clergyman smiled gently, his eyes warm with compassion. "Fear not, Detective, for you are indeed safe here. Like your friend said, I am Father Thomas, and this holy hovel is my parish," the priest grinned boyishly. "Though this place of worship is rather ancient and decrepit, it is still home to me and to all those who seek comfort and safety. The lost and the weary are always welcomed here in this hallowed place."

The clergyman looked at Hutch and quietly asked, "Were his wounds cleaned? Did Justin take the time to use . . ."

"Holy Water?" Pale blue eyes shifted over to look at the suddenly serious priest, his mind racing back to Starsky's bedroom as images of his partner thrashing in pain flitted through his mind's eye. "Yeah, he did. He used it on the demon too."

"Good. Good!" Father Thomas nodded, his voice quiet and solemn. "Being that this is a Church, we have an abundance of holy water here that we can use. I will salt the windows and the edges of the doors. Demons and spirits hate the purity of rock salt, did you know that?" The priest chatted amiably. "I think that our seccubus will think twice before appearing on consecrated ground." The clergyman leaned over to grab the thin blanket that had fallen to the floor and carefully tucked the tattered spread over the legs of the shivering brunet who inconspicuously drew back once more; away from the young priest, only to lean even more into the blond's comforting side.

Father Thomas smiled reassuringly at the suspicious brunet. "It's okay. I understand that you have been through something very foreign and frightening . . . something that the average person never experiences in a lifetime. Hopefully we will get through this night and Justin and his partner will be here soon with answers." The priest turned to Hutch and said, "In the meantime, I think we will need to re-clean and re-dress his wounds, the edges are torn and oozing pus." The priest reached for the bandages only to stop when Hutch laid his large hand over the gauze.

"I"ll do it," Hutch said softly, his eyes searching the kindly face of the priest, intuitively knowing the brunet was feeling vulnerable and suspicious of the younger man. "I think my partner just needs some time to digest everything that's gone down tonight."

Father Thomas nodded and smiled reassuringly. "Certainly. I can totally understand that. I will leave his care to you and use this time to secure the place. After that, I'll brew your partner some nice, hot tea. It might do wonders to chase that chill from his body. Aspirins would help too. I must apologize for the meager offerings, but . . ."

"No," Hutch interjected. "We just . . . just thank you . . . for letting us come to you like this. You don't even know us and we might be putting you in danger . . ."

Father Thomas smiled and lifted his hand before Hutch could finish his sentence. "There is no need to thank me, my son. I am but a servant of the Lord after all, and this is God's house. Our Father welcomes all into His humble abode." The young clergyman looked from the tall blond to the brunet whose gaze remained unwavering upon his face. "Take care of your friend, and I will be back with something warm for him to drink."

Hutch smiled at his quiet partner as the door to the small chamber room closed behind the priest. "Hey . . . you okay? You with me, Starsk?"

The weary brunet sighed and lifted his right shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "'M 'kay . . . you?" Weary sapphire colored orbs searched the countenance of his best friend's face and Hutch could feel his throat tighten with emotion. As hurt as he was, Starsky never failed put his partner first, the concern in the brunet's eyes was very evident as it quickly scanned over the blond to make sure that Hutch was fine.

"I'm good, buddy. Can't believe your worried about me when it's you who's been hurt," Hutch whispered, swallowing back the dread of what he had to do next. "Hey, pal," the blond said, sitting up slightly to gently guide his leaning partner until Starsky's back was up against the wall again. "I-I gotta clean those nasty cuts of yours and then bandage them up again, okay?" At the brunet's silent nod, Hutch opened some packets of gauze and tilted the plastic bottle, squeezing some of the clear liquid onto the white square.

Hutch could feel his partner's eyes watching everything he was doing. The blond looked up, his own gaze warm and uncertain. "It's um . . . holy water. Gonna clean up the pus and blood from those gashes across your midsection," Hutch murmured, watching as Starsky looked down at his wounds. The brunet slowly looked up, blue eyes shifting until they met the blond's. Saturating the gauze, Hutch locked his eyes to his partner's and dragged Starsky's hand to the hem of his shirt, fisting his partner's fingers around the thin material. "It's gonna hurt, buddy, so just . . . just hang on and it'll be done in no time. Okay?"

"'Kay." Starsky said, the absolute trust he had in his partner could be heard in the brunet's simple reply and it touched Hutch deeply. As gently as he could, Hutch cut away the rest of the soiled bandages and began to clean the deep gashes making sure to squeeze some of the holy water over the scratches. He knew it was painful, could see the effort it was taking Starsky to stifle his gasps as a hiss of steam rose from each slash. The brunet gritted his teeth and turned his away; the hand fisting his partner's shirt choked the cloth, knuckles white as bone.

Pale blue eyes softened in sympathy and concern as Hutch continued his ministrations, listening to the rapid and uneven breathing coming for his partner. Hutch grabbed some more gauze and tipped the small bottle to pour more water onto it, taking his time to give Starsky a brief respite from the tortuous process, allowing the brunet to catch his breath. "Okay?" Hutch whispered, seeing the slight nod of the curly head though Starsky kept his face turned away.

Hutch frowned as he studied the gash on his partner's ribcage. It was deep, the point of entry for the demon's talons, oozing pus wept from Starsky's left side. "Starsk," Hutch said quietly, "This one's extra deep. I'm gonna have to p-pour some of this water into the puncture wound. Just hang tight, then it'll be all over." The almost imperceptible nod from the brunet was the only sign that Starsky was still with him, aware of what was going on.

"Y-you were pretty out of it at your house," Hutch began to ramble, slowly squeezing the bottle over the wound, using the edge of the blanket to sop up the excess water before it saturated the pallet. "We got there as soon as we could." The blond's hand trembled slightly as Starsky immediately sucked in his breath, back arching against the wall, the wound fizzled and bubbled as smoke rose from the gash. Hutch gently laid his hand upon Starsky's rigid form, gently pushing him down once the brutal pain released the suffering detective, allowing him to breathe once more.

Hutch gently wiped away the blood and pus from the deep gash. "Mari and her partner, Justin Thatcher, were there." Hutch continued softly, unwinding the sterilized bandages so that he could begin to bind the wounds. Though his voice remained calm, the blond's hands visibly trembled. "They knew what they were doing, too. Agent Thatcher suggested we come here. The priest, Father Thomas, is his longtime friend."

Hutch carefully began to wrap the clean white bandages around his silent partner's torso; the torn and jagged flesh slowly disappeared from view as layers of white sterilized cloth covered them. "Justin and I carried you out to the car after dressing you, and you slept most of the way here. It was storming, but we finally made it in one piece." Hutch continued to wrap, making sure the bindings were tight enough to give support without hurting his partner even more. Hutch concentrated intently upon his ministrations and was startled when he felt Starsky's hand gently reach out and stop his own hands from continuing the first aid.

"You're shakin'," the soft raspy voice of the brunet drew the blond's gaze and Hutch could see the quiet concern in the dark sapphire depths he knew so well.

Hutch sighed deeply, tying off the bandages securely before straightening his spine once more to look his partner in the eye. The blond wearily dragged a blood-stained hand through the golden threads of his hair and said, "Yeah . . . yeah, I guess I am. It's just . . . it's been a hell of a night, Starsk."

"Tell me about it." Starsky said, watching as Hutch put his hands together and squeezed until he got the slight trembling under control. The brunet grunted softly as he pulled himself away from the wall into a sitting position, wincing as his stomach muscles clenched with the effort.

"Take it easy, buddy," Hutch warned, helping his partner to lean against his side for support. "We don't want to aggravate your wounds."

The brunet ignored the blond's warning and said, "Seriously Hutch, tell me. I remember bits and pieces, but for the most part, it's all hazy and vague. I just remember climbin' those steps and ending up here. That's it."

"Yeah, well like I said before, you were pretty out of it." Hutch sighed, closing his eyes as the horrific images of the sultry demon sitting astride his partner's body flashed through his mind. "You're not going to believe this, Starsk. Hell, if I didn't see with my own two eyes, I don't know if I would believe it either, but it was a demon . . . a seccubus."

"What? What is that?" Starsky asked, dark blue eyes searching the pale face of his partner, "I mean . . . I get it's a demon, but what did you call it again?"

"A seccubus. It's a sex demon. She appears to men in dreams, takes her victims to orgasm and sucking their souls when they climax."

"Huh." Starsky huffed as he tried to process what Hutch just said. "So those victims Mari were talking about . . ."

"Yup, the demon got them." Hutch confirmed.

Starsky eyed his partner. "And . . . what does all this have to do with me?"

Hutch cleared his throat uncomfortably then said, "Well, remember how you were telling me you had a wet dream . . ."

"Wait, hold on for a minute," Starsky interjected, eyes wide with dawning understanding. "You mean t'tell me that this sickobus . . ."

"Seccubus," Hutch corrected, a smile beginning to tweak the corners of his mouth.

"Whatever," Starsky said irritably, only to resume where he left off. "So this _seccubus _was after me?"

"Yeah. Seems like this whole case is somehow tied into Simon Marcus. The victims . . . they all knew him." Hutch paused, knowing his partner was silently reliving his horrific nightmare of being captured and held in the clutches of Simon's insane cult.

The blond quietly continued, "Mari and Justin found the connection between Marcus and the eviscerated corpses. Apparently, you're their next victim, Starsk. The demon can only come to you when you are sleeping, slowly sucking the life force from her victims, weakening them each time she visits, until she finally takes their soul after they've achieved orgasm for the third time." The blond detective eyed his silent partner. "How um . . . how m-many times did you come, buddy? Do you remember?" Hutch stammered, his face and neck turning red with those intimate questions.

Starsky looked up to the chamber's ceiling, trying hard to remember the vague woman who came to him in his dreams, gyrating herself into him as she took him over the edge into an exploding orgasm that rocked his world. The brunet shook his head and sighed, shifting his eyes to his partner. "Don't know for sure . . . maybe twice."

Hutch nodded. "Okay, good. We have to keep you awake from here on end. Those wounds you got? She's marked you, and the only way she can come to you again is if you fall asleep. So you have to promise me you won't sleep, okay? I know you're in pain and you're exhausted, but you have to stay awake!"

"'Kay." Starsky said softly, trying to process all that Hutch had shared, his mind trying to wrap around the far-fetched idea that something supernatural was after him. "So, it's a . . . a demon?"

At Hutch's silent nod, Starsky frowned once more. "Man," the brunet finally said. "And here I thought I was dreamin' 'bout Sam."

Hutch sighed, remembering the unpleasant argument with the buxom brunette in the records department. "Starsk, about Samantha . . . why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" the brunet replied, a quiet vagueness entering his voice.

The tall blond softly snorted, one brow raised as he eyed his partner. "You know what."

Starsky shrugged, "Don't know. Guess I thought it was too stupid to even discuss with you. You know how it is at the station, the jokes and the digs we get from the other cops about how close we are. I knew you would be feeling all guilty if you ever caught wind of Sam's jealousies. I wasn't about to make you take the rap and feel bad for her accusations when there's no truth to the matter."

Hutch thought silently for a bit before saying, "Yeah, well in a way, I do feel bad."

Starsky snorted. "See? I knew it. There's nothing worse than a Kenneth Hutchinson guilt trip, and I wasn't about to add fuel to the fire. Anyway, Hutch, there's no sense cryin' over spilt milk, especially when we did nothing to tip the bottle of over."

Hutch sighed once more, feeling his friend's pain. "Starsk, it's just that I knew how much you cared about Sam. She was beautiful, and witty, and you were crazy about her, talking non-stop about . . ."

"Yeah, well, it's over," Starsky said brusquely, his gaze drifting downwards to focus on the cold stone of the floor. The dark haired cop drew sighed resignedly and said, "I mean, I dug her and all, and I guess a big part'a me was hopin' that this might be 'the one', but it turns out that she wasn't." Hutch remained silent, not knowing what else to say, though his heart ached for his partner.

After a moment's pause, the brunet continued, "Ya know Hutch?" Starsky said, never raising his eyes, "I remember my ma and the relationship she had with my old man. Even as a kid, I always knew they loved each other. I could always see it shinin' in their eyes."

The brunet smiled wistfully, his voice growing soft and reflective. "My pop . . . he was real close with his partner, Bernie. Pop would invite his partner over to the house all the time; and my ma, she would cook for them, and drink beer with them, and laugh at their silly stories. They were a threesome, joined at the hip, and we all loved when Uncle Bernie would come over. Me and Nick knew that Bernie kept our pop safe out there on the streets. My ma never failed to remind us of that, and she would tell us to keep pop and Uncle Bernie in our prayers each night before we went t'bed."

Hutch nodded silently, not wanting to interrupt his partner. Starsky, though outwardly demonstrative, was very private when it came to the hurts he felt inside. Most of the time, the brunet would just bury deep whatever pain he carried within, and Hutch would usually need a shovel and pick to dig out the truth of what his partner was feeling. This time however, it surprised and pleased the blond that Starsky seemed to be more than willing to open up on his own.

'_Maybe it's the fever?'_ Hutch thought. He could still feel the slight trembling that wracked his partner's battered body and he gently tucked the blanket tighter around the brunet, making sure to keep the damp edge of the spread away from Starsky's skin. He kept his movements gentle, not wanting to disturb his partner from his train of thought as the fair-haired detective continued to listen to what Starsky divulged.

Starsky smiled softly. "Ya know . . . my ma, she's the best. She never remarried, even though my old man died young. Guess her heart always belonged with pop. They had somethin' special 'tween them, I guess. I used'ta think that's how my girl would be . . . and when Terry came along . . . well, I knew I had that special somethin' with her, ya know?" At this Starsky shifted his eyes to look at Hutch and the blond could see the undisguised pain in the bright blue orbs before the brunet looked away once more.

"Terry . . . she always knew what to say to make me feel like I was the best thing on earth." Starsky whispered as he shifted his gaze to the quiet blond, glancing up through long, dark lashes, his eyes sparkling like shining sapphire gems as he reminisced about the woman he lost.

The brunet looked down once more when he saw Hutch nod his head in agreement and then continued, his voice gentle and raspy. "She was a lady through and through, but it was more than that. The best part about Terry, was that she loved you, Hutch. She accepted and understood that you and me were always gonna be together and she . . . she never tried to come between our partnership. In fact, she used to team up with ya, and you and her both, would gang up on me, 'member?" The curly haired detective snorted, lifting his eyes to his partner once more, lavender-blue eyes were suddenly swimming with unshed tears. "I, um . . . I miss her, Hutch."

Hutch swallowed, his own eyes misting over as Starsky looked at him, memories of the petite spunky schoolteacher flitting through his mind. Terry had been such a special lady and they both missed her dreadfully, though they rarely talked about her. He could see it even now, as clear as if it were yesterday; he and Starsky sprawled out on the kitchen floor, a night spent playing Monopoly amid candles and bottles of beer, a light blue package with a well-loved bear ensconced within, a simple card with heartfelt words: _'Dearest Hutch . . . to you I entrust Ollie and Dave . . ."_

Hutch swallowed the lump in his throat. "I miss her too, buddy. Terry was beautiful, inside and out. Just the fact that you had her in your life, even though your time together was brief . . . well, I wish I could have had that kind of relationship." Hutch admitted quietly, brushing the back of his hand over his eyes. "I mean, what you two had, Starsk, was something that so many of us will never experience in life."

Starsky sighed. "Yeah, she was somethin' wasn't she, Hutch?" At the blond's nod, Starsky continued quietly. "So I guess I've been kinda always lookin' for another Terry. Thought maybe Sam was gonna be the one who could replace this hole that Terry left with me, ya know? But the minute Sammy started raggin' about you, and about our partnership . . . well, I just knew. She wasn't 'the one', and I . . . I let her end it."

"Yeah, because of me." Hutch said softly. "If I wasn't in the picture . . ."

"Hutch?" Starsky rasped, his voice hardening as sapphire eyes smoldered and turned to smoky cobalt. "You just don't get it do you? You and me . . . it's always been us . . . even . . . even before Terry came into my life. You're my best friend in the whole world, Hutch, and ain't nobody gonna come between us. You mean more to me than anyone; I trust you everyday with my life on the streets. With all the crap that we see out there, you make life bearable for me and I . . . I count my blessin's that I found you for my partner.

For a few long seconds everything was quiet as both men processed what had been said. Starsky quickly looked away, but Hutch noticed that his cheeks were flushed, whether by the fever or by embarrassment, the blond had no idea. The fair-haired detective knew how much Starsky hated these kinds of 'soapy' moments; and yet, if Hutch were to be honest with himself, the words that came from his partner touched him deeply, lifting the sorrow and guilt he'd been holding in since the blowup with Samantha in R & I.

The seconds stretched awkwardly to a minute before Hutch cleared his throat and hesitantly asked, "Does um . . . does this mean that you're proposing to me, buddy?" Hutch smiled, using their familiar banter to lighten the mood of their intensely emotional conversation.

Starsky snorted and shook his head, lifting his eyes to glance at the grinning blond. A quiet chuckle then came from the brunet, his shoulders shaking as the sound of his mirth grew in volume only to be joined by Hutch's laughter.

"Ahhh," Starsky grimaced and winced, his expression alternating between pain and joy, as he clutched tightly to his abdomen. "Don't make me laugh, Blondie . . . you're killin' me."

"Get over here, Gordo!" Hutch grinned and pulled his feverish partner closer to his side, his heart filling with love for his wounded friend. "Can't have my bride running away from me now, can I?"

"Bride?" Starsky huffed indignantly, "You're the one with the pretty hair, Goldielocks!"

The brunet grinned as Hutch chuckled and blushed. "And anyway," the dark haired detective continued, "It's the man that proposes, so that must means that you're the girl!"

"Hey, it's the '80's," Hutch reminded. "Times have changed . . ."

The creaking of the chamber door opening silenced the quiet chuckles and both detectives turned to see Father Thomas sticking his head around the portal. The young priest grinned and said, "I hope I'm not disturbing you, but I'm back and I've brought some nice hot tea and aspirins for Detective Starsky."

**To be continued . . .**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning****:** "The Chosen" is a paranormal/supernatural dark tale and contains some sexual content, foul language, and hurt scenes that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I truly do not want to offend anyone and it is never my intentions to do so. Please consider yourself warned.

~The Chosen~

**~ Chapter Eight ~**

The priest smiled warmly and came around the door holding a tray in his hands. Hutch noticed that the younger man had changed into a long black robe. "It's good to hear laughter again in these quiet halls," the clergyman said, putting down the tray that held a mug of steaming tea. "Sorry it took me a while to get back, but securing this house of God took longer than I'd thought. Didn't realize how many windows this old parish has." The young priest smiled and added, "The upstairs balcony area took me the longest to do. My usual attire got dirty from all the dust up there." Father Thomas chuckled warmly, "Took the time to change into something more comfortable. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Hutch assured. "I'm sure it's a lot warmer too."

"Yes," the priest agreed. "The storm seems to be getting worse. I was hoping that it would dissipate soon."

The blond detective thoughtfully frowned. "So, there's an upstairs area?" Hutch inquired. "I hadn't noticed it when we first came in to the church."

"Yes, we do have a balcony area." Father Thomas said as he shook out two small white pills from the aspirin bottle. "At one time when our church had a large congregation, pews were set upstairs as well to accommodate the overflow. No one really liked sitting up there so close to the organ pipes, but there really was no other choice." The young priest smiled then winked. "Father Gregory who used to tend to this parish before me, told me he would just hand out cotton balls to stuff or worshipers ears with." Father Thomas laughed, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "I certainly miss my predecessor. He was a great teacher and role model to me."

Hutch helped Starsky to sit up and held the cup of tea as the brunet took a cautious sip. Starsky sighed, feeling the hot liquid warming the pit of his stomach. The brunet carefully drank more of the dark tea to wash down the aspirins that Hutch slipped between his lips. Though he tried, Starsky couldn't stop his body from shivering under the thin and worn blanket. The curly haired detective tipped his head slightly back to get the last drop of tea, its warmth soothing him from the inside out.

"Those aspirins will help with the fever." Father Thomas said softly. The young priest shook his head with remorse. "I wish I could give you more blankets, but this parish hasn't much to offer besides a dry roof over your heads."

"It's okay," Hutch quickly reassured. "A dry roof in a storm is something to be thankful for."

Father Thomas smiled, "That is so, my son. We must always strive to have a heart of gratitude, to see the light even through the darkest of times. A heart of gratitude helps us to see the blessings that we may oftentimes miss." Father Thomas sighed and then tucked the thin parish blanket tighter around Starsky. "Yet, it still doesn't hurt to pray for things we lack . . . like another blanket perhaps!" The young priest grinned, his face looking even more boyish as he scratched his head. "During times such as these, a thick comforter would certainly be a blessing."

"Wait a minute," Hutch said, eyes wide with dawning realization. "Justin packed some stuff in Starsky's large duffle bag. I think he might have put a spare blanket in there. It's in the backseat of the car. I'd have to go back and get it."

"Hutch?" Starsky murmured softly, his trembling hand reaching out to clutch at the blond's sleeve. He was so cold and it was hard to control the shivering that overtook the brunet's hurting body. Starsky blinked away the hazy aura that surrounded his golden partner, trying to clear the sudden fuzziness from his vision. He was so achingly tired and having Hutch near was like a soothing balm to his battered soul.

"I can go get it," Father Thomas volunteered. "It's still pouring outside."

"Yeah, and that's why I'll go get it. I'm already damp." Hutch said, gently releasing his partner's fingers from his shirtsleeve, leaning over to unconsciously pat his partner on the shoulder as he stood, easing the brunet's unrest with his touch. "Stay with Starsky, Father. I will be right back."

"Yes. Don't worry about your partner. He will be safe with me." Father Thomas reassured gently, quickly sitting on the pallet where Hutch once was.

"Hutch?" Starsky rasped, cobalt blue eyes bright with fever. The brunet struggled weakly against the restraining hand of the priest as he tried to get to his partner.

Hutch quickly crouched next to the pallet, his hand grasping that of his partner's. "Starsk, hey pal, I'll be right back, okay? I'm just gonna get some stuff from the car. I should've grabbed it when we came up here . . ."

"All those steps . . ." Starsky murmured, closing his eyes in exhaustion, long dark lashes fanning out to hide the vibrant blue of his world-weary eyes.

Hutch snorted softly, rubbing his partner's wrist. "Yeah, it seemed like a lot, buddy, but I promise I'll take them three at a time and I'll be back here before you can say Harold Dobey."

Starsky sighed and lifted one lid to stare at his blond counterpart, "Promises . . . promises."

Hutch grinned and rubbed the damp curls on his partner's head before he stood. "Speaking of promises . . . no sleeping, okay?"

Starsky closed his eye and sniffed belligerently. "I'm givin' ya only three minutes t'get back here, Blondie, then after that, I'm out for the count!"

Hutch and the priest chuckled at the pout that came over the brunet's face before Starsky turned his head to the wall to shut out both men. The dark haired cop could feel the anxiety he felt at Hutch's departure mixing with the sharp twinges of pain that slowly spread throughout his gut. For some reason, Starsky felt vulnerable with only the priest for company. The brunet inconspicuously clutched his midsection and chided himself on being such a baby, resolutely deciding to wait until Hutch came back to tell his blond counterpart how crappy he was feeling.

Hutch sighed, rubbing his partner's shoulder once more before he stood. The tall blond looked at the priest who's light brown eyes were filled with compassion and understanding.

"I can still go?" Father Thomas offered softly. "I think he'd much rather you be here than me."

Hutch smiled, though it never took away the concern he felt for his partner from his eyes. "It's okay, Father. I'll be back quicker than you can." Hutch chuckled at the twinkling he saw in the priest's eyes. "Yeah, I know . . . you're younger than me, but I'm wearing jeans, not that black garb you have on."

Father Thomas laughed aloud and then nodded in agreement, lifting the hem of his robe. "Yes, my son, these garments can be rather limiting. God speed then, go with the grace of our Lord. You have three minutes lad, I suggest you hurry."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"How far is it to Father Thomas' church?" Mari asked, trying to see through the blurred windshield, feeling the power of the storm outside as the Torino strained to surge forward. It was Hutch's idea that prompted them to take Starsky's car in case they needed to communicate via radio. "Is Franklin sure about his findings?"

Justin glanced at his petite partner before turning back to the rain-swept roads. "We'll be there in about 15 minutes, and yes, have you ever known Franklin to been wrong?" the handsome agent asked mundanely.

Mari rolled her eyes and brushed back the dark hair from her face. "We need to get to Starsky and Hutch quickly. If what Franklin said is true . . ." The beautiful Asian woman glanced at her silent partner once more. "Maybe we should try the radio again . . ."

Justin Thatcher frowned. "Why? Did you have any kind of premonition or vision about them?" At Mari's silence, the dark haired agent continued, "We've called four times already, Mari. They're not in the car, so they must be with Father Thomas at the Church and he knows what to do. They'll be kept safe . . ."

"Just try one more time, okay?" Mari asked softly.

"Oookay." Justin smirked, turning the radio on and lifting the receiver once more. The dark haired FBI agent startled as Mari punched him none too gently in his arm. Thatcher arched a brow and frowned. "What's that for, Miyamoto?"

"_That_ is for the smug look on your handsome face. You need to get rid of it!" Mari grinned as she punched him one more time for good measure, laughing at the feigned look of hurt that came over her partner's face. "And _that_, was to remind you to keep your eyes on the road. There's a storm brewing outside . . . now hurry and make that call."

Justin Thatcher snorted, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yes ma'am. I love it when you beg so prettily! We should try that in bed sometimes. I'm sure it would be a big turn on! " The dark haired agent laughed aloud at the look that came over Mari's face and then ducked another hit from his irate partner.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.

"Zebra Three . . . come in! Hutch? You there? Zebra Three . . . Hutch, come in . . . get your ass on the damn line. See? I told you they're not in the car . . ."

Dripping wet, shivering with cold, Hutch snatched the radio off the hook as he slammed the dented door behind him, shutting out the raging storm. "Yeah," the tall blond detective replied, his voice breathless as he shook the droplets of freezing water from his plastered hair and jacket. "It's Hutch. What ch'ya got?"

"Hutch? Where the hell you been? It's me, Justin." Hutch could hear a muffled voice in the background before Justin quickly added, "And Mari too, of course. She's been hounding me to call you. We just pulled over to the side of the road. Guess Mari doesn't trust me driving and talking at the same time." Justin snorted, but his voice grew serious as he continued. "We have some news, Hutch, and we're wondering how you and Starsky were holding up?"

Hutch twisted around to hunt for the bag in the clutter littering his backseat. The blond detective sighed in disgust as he hurriedly tried to untangle the radio's cord from around his neck. "Um . . . yeah . . . sorry . . . it's pouring here. We were inside the church, trying to keep dry . . ." Blue eyes widened as Hutch saw the duffle turned upside down on the floor of the car. Reaching with the length of his arm, Hutch felt around until his fingers grasped the handle of the bag and he grunted softly as he pulled the heavy duffel up and over the bench seat, laying the bag beside him. "Starsky's in a lot of pain, but has been conscious the whole time we've been at the Church. We cleaned out his wound again, but he's still feverish. What news do you have?"

"We're on our way over as we speak," Justin said. "Franklin found out something interesting . . ."

"Yeah? What?" Hutch interjected distractedly, listening halfheartedly as he quickly unzippered the duffle and searched inside. Hutch could feel his fingers relaxing slightly as it felt the comfortable softness of the blanket stuffed to the left of the bag amid other garments of Starsky's that Thatcher had haphazardly thrown together before they made their hasty departure.

" . . . and we think it's his son up to no good. Franklin checked his background. It appears that Jason's been dabbling in the occult sciences, perfecting his abilities to summon things from beyond the veil."

"Wait a minute," Hutch cut in, realizing sheepishly that he'd not been giving Thatcher his full attention. "Back up a bit . . . whose son?"

"Jason . . . he's the son of Simon Marcus. He dropped off the face of the earth after they found Simon's body in his prison cell. Apparently the guards found the cult leader dead in his cell with what appeared to be bullet wound between his eyes. The strange thing is no one could explain how the hell Marcus was shot especially since he was housed in a special, solitary lock down ward. Prior to Marcus' demise though, we know the kid had been visiting his pop regularly and they would talk through the glass at each visitation for as long as they could."

After a slight pause, Justin continued to explain. "From what Franklin told us, after his father died, Jason had been apparently studying the black arts over the years wanting to resurrect his father. Looking over the pictures of the devil's trap we found at each of the victim's site, Franklin believes that Jason is using an ancient resurrection spell, which needs to have at least five sacrificial lambs for the completion of the ritual. Among other things, our boss is also an expert on occult sciences and he says this particular summoning ritual requires demonic assistance--that Jason is using a seccubus to off his "chosen" victims—men who were somehow tied in life to his father. With the death of his fifth victim, a vortex or opening will be punched into the next dimension allowing Simon a way back onto this plane of existence."

"Shit!" Hutch swore. "Well that fucker ain't getting Starsky!" Hutch cradled the receiver between his shoulder and jawline, freeing his hands to zipper the bag up. "What time will you be here?"

"Soon. How's Father Thomas?" Justin asked, a smile tingeing his voice.

"I can't tell you what a godsend he is!" Hutch said, pushing back the dripping hair out of his eyes. "He's with Starsky right now. I had to come back and get the bag I forgot—thanks for packing the stuff in here—especially the blanket."

Justin snorted Hutch's heartfelt thanks away. "No need to thank me. I know it can get rather drafty in that old monastery. Lived in it for a while. Father Thomas used to take care of me when I was a kid. Damn! Thomas must be getting on in his years . . . he'll be eighty in a few short months and . . ."

"Wait a minute . . . eighty? Did you say Father Thomas will be eighty?" Hutch questioned, his mind spinning with fear as a sick feeling took hold of his racing heart.

" Yeah. With a lively spirit like his, it's hard to believe that Father Thomas will be that old. It'll be good to see that cantankerous old geezer again" The fondness in the agent's voice was hard to disguise, but Hutch had already stopped listening, his senses racing out to connect with that of his vulnerable partner's.

"Fuck!" The blond snapped tossing the radio receiver to the seat to quickly open the protesting door of his car. Snatching the duffle, Hutch raced back up the stairs, adrenalin and fear quickening his ascent up the crumbling stone steps.

The radio crackled to life within in the empty confines of the dilapidated car. "Hutch? Hutch? What the hell's going on?"

"No. . . oh God, no . . ."

Justin quickly turned to look over at Mari who held her hands pressed against her temples, her brows furrowed in pain and frustration as the vision took hold. "Mari?" the handsome green-eyed agent gently drew his partner to his side, cradling her small frame against his larger one as he tried to comfort the woman who grimaced in pain. "It's alright Mari. I'm right here beside you. What do you see? Tell me." Justin whispered softly, pressing his lips against the clammy forehead of the woman who held his heart.

Mari moaned softly, her eyes wide, seeing something horrific that only she could envision. Her soft lips quivered as she whispered, "H-he's in danger . . . David. I can see him . . .no , no , no . . .he's falling . . . Oh God, Justin, he's falling and . . . and we can't save him . . ."

**To be continued . . .**

**A/N**: _A great big thanks goes out to all of you for taking the time to read and review this piece. Thanks for riding along with me on this one . . .it sure is nice to have company especially when the journey is a dark one. In this chapter, I have made reference to the demise of Simon Marcus as it appeared in another story I wrote called, "Silent Witness", but it is not necessary to read that story to understand this one._

Love and light . . .Shawne 'til Dawn 


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning****:** "The Chosen" is a paranormal/supernatural dark tale and contains some sexual content, foul language, and hurt scenes that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I truly do not want to offend anyone and it is never my intentions to do so. Please consider yourself warned.

~The Chosen~

**~Chapter Nine~**

The pain in his gut was worsening, the cramping making him double over in pain, adding pressure to the ribbons of slashes that decorated his abdomen and ribcage. Starsky gasped and swallowed back the groan that wanted to escape. He blinked back the perspiration that dripped off the tips of his lashes, shaking his head to clear the fuzziness from this vision as he watched the distorted shape of Father Thomas walking back into the chamber room.

"H-Hutch?" Starsky rasped, wishing his partner would return, attempting to move away from the hazy figure approaching his bed until his body was pressed up against the wall blocking his escape. "Wh-where's Hutch?"

"There now, there's nothing to fear." Father Thomas murmured. Starsky could feel the pallet sinking down as the priest sat on its edge, his reaching arms blurring in and out of focus as Starsky fought down the sudden nausea that roiled in his gut. "Had to make sure that the doors to the church were locked before I could come back and take care of you. It wouldn't do to have your partner butting in on all the fun would it?" The young priest smiled wickedly, his once kind eyes glittered with a light brown fire that made Starsky inwardly cringe. The dark haired cop gasped in pain as blurry hands came out of nowhere and grasped his hair, yanking his head backwards. Father Thomas' blurring countenance came into focus once more as he glared down on the sweating cop.

"I'd often wondered why my father wanted you so badly. Why he made sure that we took you and not your partner that day in the courthouse, but I can see it now. You have something within you that is so special. Your eyes . . . they change hues, did you know that? Sometimes they are the color of the sea and other times, I have seen them darken to the color of a twilight sky." The light brown eyes staring above Starsky glimmered in the candle's glow. The priest softened his touch, fisted hands opening to gently stroke the damp, dark curls. "You are so very beautiful . . . so innocent, yet worldly; you are a dichotomy that intrigued my father. Even now, your inner light shines strong. It is no wonder my father wanted you . . . Polaris!"

Starsky eyes widened and he renewed his feeble struggles at the sound of the name that had haunted him for a long time. _Polaris_ - the name given to him by Simon Marcus. _What the hell was going on?_ _Where was Hutch?_ He could feel the priest's arms tightening around his upper chest as the priest attempted to haul the cop into a sitting position.

Starsky bit back the groan as Jason yanked him up. Bearing down on the pain in his gut, the valiant detective broke free of the priest's grasp and pushed the robed man backwards while the brunet fell over the side of the pallet and scrambled to get to the door. "You s-sick fuck . . . stay away from me . . ." Starsky growled, reaching up for the handle of the door only to feel himself being dragged back by his uncooperative legs. The priest loomed over the sprawled detective and quickly backhanded the disoriented brunet twice, splitting his lip that leaked a slow trail of blood down Starsky's chin, leaving the already disoriented detective dazed and breathless.

"There now," Jason soothed, his voice eerily soft, almost compassionate as he stroked the side of the brunet's face, leaning in to listen to the cop's labored breathing. "You and I have been destined to meet for some time now, Polaris. I've never forgotten you. Do you know that? I remember how they brought you to the old zoo, strung you up like a piece of meat. I saw you swaying by the ropes that bound your hands as the sun rose and lit the sky. I was a lot younger then, merely a boy, but I still remember how beautiful you looked."

The eyes of the priest shifted downward to rake the heaving, muscled chest of the detective, noting the scars that came from Gunther's failed attempt to take the cop's life a few years back. "You were so beautiful then, Polaris, and you are still so beautiful now, even with these marks. These wounds are a testament to your bravery and it makes you an even worthier tribute to my father's return. "

Jason pulled Starsky to his feet and the detective groaned in agony as his stomach muscles cramped with intense pain. The brunet's legs would have given out had it not been for the priest catching his fall. "Careful Polaris. I know you are hurting. The powder I put in your tea is causing the discomfort, but I promise you that it will ease the pain when _she_ comes to take you."

"G-go to hell . . ." Starsky gasped, blue eyes hardening with the frustration he felt as his body refused to cooperate in his escape, his befuddled mind barely comprehending the mad ranting that came from the would be priest.

Jason chuckled. "Perhaps I'll see you in hell one day. Since you'll be going first, maybe you can send me a postcard and let me know what the weather is like down there." The priest grunted softly as he roughly hefted the dazed cop over his shoulder; smiling as he heard Starsky gasp in pain, the cop's tender abdomen jolting hard across the shoulder bone of the fake clergyman. Jason could feel the warm flow of blood as it dripped onto his back and he chuckled. The son of Simon Marcus took the steps up to the balcony slowly, so as to not drop his precious burden.

Draped over the priest's shoulder Starsky hung awkwardly, each step spearing knives through his gut. The brunet grunted softly in pain and swallowed back the bile that rose from his stomach. Without warning, Starsky lost his precarious perch as Jason threw the cop down to the unforgiving ground and then proceeded to drag the curly haired detective next to a circular diagram that had been hastily scrawled in blood onto the dusty floor of the balcony.

Unable to stop himself, Starsky cried out as his body slammed and jolted against the hard wooden surface of the floor, dust and debris sticking to the glistening sweat along his back and arms as Jason dragged him along. The agony that tore through his ribs and mid-section had Starsky curled into the sharp pain as he surfed through the waves of darkness that wanted to wash over him. He could feel the spasms in his stomach muscles as he caught sight of the headless chicken lying dead near the overturned goblet of blood. The dazed cop wanted to retch and spill his guts, but he could sense the priest standing over him and knew that he was being watched. Starsky swallowed continuously, hands clutching his abdomen until he could ride out the nausea that wanted to spew out. Breathing hard, the drugged brunet blinked back waves of darkness that wanted to pull him under. He struggled to remain conscious remembering the promise he made to Hutch—to stay awake no matter what.

"Don't fight it, Polaris." Jason whispered, his voice was deceptively soothing as he crouched next to the wounded cop, reaching his hand out to pet the dark curls once more. "The powder I put into your drink has something in it to make you sleepy. You can't fight it for long. Sleep, so that _she_ can find you and all of this pain and suffering will be over. I will summon her now, to this "holy" place, and once she takes your soul, then can my father return to his rightful place at my side."

The priest grinned as he stroked the detective's head; remembering the time a few years back when he had watched the brunet and his partner standing in a cemetery, paying their last respects to a young girl named Sara who had died saving Starsky's life. He had hid behind the bushes near the gravesite, hatefully peeking out at the cops, one light where the other was dark. That day, Jason had vowed silently to himself that he would do whatever it took to get even with the dark haired man they called Polaris, and right the wrong that was done to his father.

Starsky gasped, his breathing rapid and shallow as a wave of intense pain punctured his abdomen once more, making the dark haired detective curl into a ball on the dusty floor. The touch of Marcus' son made him feel even sicker inside and Starsky yanked his head away from under Jason's hand. "You sick . . . son of a bitch . . ."

Jason smiled as he watched the brunet's feeble struggles. "It's okay to scream, Polaris. I know you hurt. No need to be brave. You will be dead in a few minutes. All the others—they screamed too. I loved to listen to them and I would love to hear your voice added to the memories of the death melodies that play in my head as I remember each glorious sacrifice from the men my father touched in his lifetime."

Starsky blinked back the perspiration that stung his eyes, shaking his head to clear the black spots that swam before him, making it difficult to track the movements of the insane priest who stood and then walked over to the large silver chalice in the middle of the blood-drawn diagram. The dark haired detective clenched his eyes shut as a wave of pain punched a hole through his gut, making breathing almost impossible. He tried to force himself to crawl, but his limbs were unresponsive as a paralytic coldness froze them into useless appendages. Starsky could smell the sulphur from the lit matchstick and he struggled to listen to the unfamiliar Latin words coming from the priest as he performed the summoning rites, chanting loudly as the sudden whoosh of flames rose from the powdery contents in the ornate cup. As if in a dream, distant sounds came suddenly from below and Starsky could vaguely make out the frantic pounding on the solid wooden doors of the church, intuitively knowing it was his partner.

_Hutch._

"You're too late, Detective Hutchinson. I have summoned her," Jason whispered eerily, turning his head towards the ledge of the balcony, his eyes lit up by the yellow flames that slowly turned to orange embers within the metal chalice. A sudden wind filled the room with a sickening stench and Starsky wearily kept his eyes open, trying to make sense of the large black column of oily smoke that started to take shape in the middle of the diagram . . .

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Hutch quickly ran through the pouring rain to the other side of the church where the huge stained glass window stood. Pounding on the doors did nothing but warn the priest that he was on to him, and Hutch wanted to kick himself for his foolishness. The blond knew he had given away his element of surprise, yet Hutch couldn't stand the thought of his vulnerable partner unable to protect himself. Starsky needed him and it made Hutch crazy to think that the brunet was inside . . . alone . . . with Simon Marcus' son.

That frightening thought made Hutch drop the duffle bag he still clutched in his right hand and grab a huge moss slicked rock from its hiding place in the snarled bushes that grew to the side of the church. Grunting at the effort it took to heft the rock over his head, Hutch squatted slightly, pushing with the strength of his legs to hurl the small boulder through the beautifully ornate window, shielding his face as he quickly turned away from the loud explosion as shards of colored glass rained around him. The tall blond quickly unzipped the bag and drew out the blanket, only to lay the soft flannel against the window ledge to keep himself from being cut by the sharp glass as he crawled over the wooden sill and into the darkened church.

Dropping to a crouch, Hutch quickly snatched his magnum from the back of his waistband, blue eyes slivered to silver as they searched for the familiar form of his partner. Hutch shook his head as a feeling of déjà vu came over him, remembering a time not too long ago when he made his way like this through another old abandoned church to rescue his partner from the hands of Simon's cult. That nightmare had horribly ended with an arrow through Starsky's shoulder and the deaths of a young girl and many of Simon's followers; one of them being Luke, the first disciple of Simon Marcus. Though there was no way that Hutch could prove it, he knew that his bullet that had taken down Luke had somehow also killed Simon in his cell as well since they were somehow connected. Ironically, Hutch had thought that they had seen the last of Simon Marcus and yet, here they were once again struggling against the shadow of a man who wasn't even alive anymore.

Hutch frowned, the groove between his brows deepening as he warily looked around the seemingly empty church. Using the pews as a shield, the wary cop began to silently make his way to the back chamber room where he had left his wounded partner, but he paused as he heard the sound of rushing wind and the finishing chant of Latin that came from the area above him. Shifting his eyes upwards, Hutch quickly made his way up the stairs, his eyes widening in disbelief as he spied the priest still on his knees by the chalice; a huge plume of smoke hovered above the younger man. The blond's eyes fell to his partner who lay curled at the edge of the bloody circular diagram on the floor. Without thinking of his own safety, Hutch hurried over to where Starsky lay unmoving.

A curious tingling from head to toe came over the fair-haired detective as Hutch rushed over to his hurting partner and suddenly, without warning, Hutch was bodily lifted by some kind of supernatural force and hurled across the room, his back brutally slamming against the wall behind Starsky, pinning him firmly like a bug under a glass. No matter how much Hutch struggled to break free, he could barely move under the crushing pressure that held him pressed against the wall. Hutch glared at Jason Marcus who held up his left hand, fingers held together stretched to the ceiling, palm flat and open, faced towards the struggling blond.

Light blue eyes shifted to his partner as Starsky forced himself to move his useless limbs, dragging his protesting body to crawl over to his pinned partner. "Hu-Hutch," the brunet gasped, his cobalt colored eyes darkened, pupils blown with the pain that was tearing him apart from the inside out.

Maniacal laughter came from the priest who stood with his arm held out, glaring at the two detectives. With the toe of his boot, Jason began to scrape away some of the outer lines of the diagram that held the demon trapped inside with him. The oily smoke immediately exited the crude circle, a curvaceous form taking shape through the black smudge of smoky sulphur fumes.

Hutch blinked, his mouth falling open as a beautiful dark haired woman emerged from the smoke, a filmy black dress clinging to her tempting body. Her glittering green eyes shifted to take in her surroundings and she hissed as she saw the large crucifix adhered to the wall across from the pinned blond. Hutch struggled even more, fighting his unseen bonds as the succubus warily turned away from the cross and glided over to his wounded partner who lay with his eyes closed, his torn body in a crumpled heap at Hutch's feet.

"Starsky?" Hutch shouted, wanting to reach out with his foot to nudge his partner awake, but like the rest of his body, his leg was frozen tight to the wall. "Goddamnit Starsky! You open your eyes right now! Wake up! You hear me?" Hutch screamed, his light blue eyes wide with alarm as the woman bent to crouch over his unconscious partner. "Starsky! Wake up! NOW! That's an order!"

A sharp gasp and slurred mumblings came from the exhausted brunet and if Hutch were able to, he would have slumped over with relief as Starsky slowly came to, dark lashes rolling as awareness came to the forefront once more, bringing with it the pain and agony of the brunet's injuries. Yet Hutch was only filled with gratitude as a silent mantra ran through his head . . .

_Thank you, God. Thank you, God. Please save him. I'll do anything you want from now, just please save him. Thank you, God. Please just save him . . ._

"He wakes . . . master?" the demon's low seductive whisper sent shivers up Hutch's spine. The blond detective watched as the demon slowly turned to look over the velvet line of her shoulder to the robed clergyman still standing in the devil's trap. There was uncertainty and confusion in the way the seductive seccubus suddenly stopped and stood, like a puppet awaiting direction from the puppeteer who controlled her strings.

Hutch grunted as he continued to struggle, his spine digging into the wall from the invisible pressure coming from the priest's outstretched hand. His gaze dropped to the gun that was thrown across the way when he was slammed against the wall. _If only he could get it . . . if only . . ._

The blond's head snapped to attention as he locked his eyes with the young man in the black flowing garment. All that was missing from the robe was the upside down crimson crucifix, a complete mockery to the Catholic faith that was the trademark of Marcus' cult. Jason sneered as he neared them, crouching next to the brunet who wearily lifted long spiked lashes, revealing dark blue eyes laced with pain and confusion.

"Stubborn fool," the priest snarled as he grabbed onto the left arm of the downed detective, brutally dragging him to the other end of the room near the balcony's edge. Starsky involuntarily cried out, the wrenching of his arm lifting and spreading his ribcage, tearing open the deepest of the gouges that criss-crossed his torso.

"Starsky!" Hutch shouted, a surge of anger and adrenalin making him renew his efforts at getting free from the wall; yet despite his valiant struggles, the weary blond remained pinned by the intensity of the supernatural force. "Starsky . . ." Hutch whispered brokenly, as he saw his partner lying in a crumpled heap once more. The blond's light blue eyes shifted to the son of Marcus as he watched the priest command the demon back into the center of the devil's trap, closing the dried blood lines with more fresh blood from the bowl. It amazed Hutch how docile the seccubus appeared as she silently stood in the circle of blood, glimmering green eyes glaring at Jason, begrudgingly awaiting her master's commands.

Jason walked over to the dark haired detective who lay in an odd heap on his side, one arm behind his back. The other arm, pressed against the floor, was wrapped around Starsky's ribcage and over his midsection. The impersonating priest fished out a small vial and dragged Starsky up to his knees, smiling cruelly as he heard the detective grunting softly in pain. Jason placed his hand over the dark head of curls, almost as if he were blessing the broken brunet. "You need to drink more of this," the priest murmured, tilting his head as if in thought. "Funny, the same dosage quickly knocked the others out, but I'd forgotten that you are special, Polaris. My father always said you had a light of strength in your heart that far surpassed mere men," Jason, popped the cover of the vial, fisting his fingers in the thick sable curls, intending to force Starsky's head back so he could shove more of the drug down the brunet's throat.

The sharp punch came out of nowhere expelling the wind from Jason's lungs, as Starsky forcefully shoved his head into the soft abdomen of the young man standing above him, knocking the priest to the floor. The dark haired detective grabbed onto the rail of the balcony ledge, grunting in pain as he pulled his protesting body to his staggering feet. "Y-your f-father . . .was nuthin' . . . but a two-bit . . . murderer of children and women! Now let my . . . partner go!" Starsky snarled; pulling Hutch's gun out from behind his back and aiming the tip at Simon's son who slowly got to his feet, brown eyes glittering in suppressed rage, realizing too late that he had dragged the battered cop to close to his partner's dropped weapon and the clever brunet had secreted it away.

The labored breathing coming from Starsky was loud in the sudden silence of the open area. Though Hutch was happy at the turn of events, he could see the fine trembling in his partner's limbs and he struggled once more to free himself from the wall so that he could render aid to his friend.

"Ain't gonna . . . tell ya again . . . let . . . Hutch go." Starsky stammered, blinking back the wave of nausea and weariness that wanted to overtake him and drag him to the floor. The cramping in his midsection was still there competing with the violent thrumming of the drums beating inside his head. His peripheral vision wavered in and out like the ebb and flow of the tide and it was all Starsky could do to keep the heavy gun leveled at the priest.

Jason glared angrily then sighed in defeat, shoulders falling as he lifted his hand towards the direction of the blond cop. To Hutch's surprise the intense pressure suddenly disappeared and he dropped to the floor like a rag doll.

Breathing heavily, Starsky wearily watched as Hutch quickly get to his feet, glad to see that his partner wasn't hurt. Shifting heavy lidded eyes back to his foe, Starsky was taken by surprise as Jason Marcus suddenly lunged for the gun in the brunet's hand, lifting the cop's arm high over Starsky's head, unbalancing the brunet who stumbled backwards towards the ledge of the balcony.

A loud thundering sound of splintering wood shattered the quiet tomblike quality of the church, drowning out the struggles of the cop and the cultist as Jason pushed the brunet backwards over the railing, hands still fighting for possession of the gun.

"Starsky!" Hutch shouted in horror, rushing towards his partner as his dark haired counterpart stumbled over the railing, taking the priest with him.

"Starsky . . . Noooooooo!" the blond screamed, hearing the sickening thud and crunch of bodies slamming and breaking against the hard concrete floor twenty-five feet below. "No!" Hutch whispered; silent tears of shock and pain streaming down his face as he forced himself to look at the carnage below. Bright blue eyes, swimming in tears, widened in disbelief and Hutch could feel his limbs trembling, barely able to support his weight as he looked over the ledge. "Oh my God, Starsky . . ." Hutch gasped. "Oh my, God!"

**To be continued . . .**

**A/N**: _This story is rapidly drawing to a close as there is only one more chapter left to be posted. I know that most of these chapters have been rather on the long side, so thank you for putting up with that._ _Once again, mahalo to all of you for taking the time to read and review this piece. In this chapter, references have again been made to another story I'd previously written entitled "Silent Witness". To those of you who have read that story, the mysterious person who appeared in the epilogue has finally been revealed_! _ -grin-_

Love and light . . . Shawne 'til Dawn 


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**: _This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of __Starsky and Hutch._

**Warning****:** "The Chosen" is a paranormal/supernatural dark tale and contains some sexual content, foul language, and hurt scenes that may be offensive to some readers. If this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I truly do not want to offend anyone and it is never my intentions to do so. Please consider yourself warned.

~The Chosen~

_**~Chapter Ten~**_

Hutch tipped his head back to swallow down the last of the amber colored liquid from the tall beer mug that sat in front of him on the now empty table. The flashing strobe lights and the loud pulsing beat from the disco music were making his head ache with the pounding tempo and the consistent whining coming from the BeeGees.

The handsome blond sighed and waved away an attractive brunette's invitational smile for a dance, not even bothering to disguise his dislike of the club they were at. He lowered his eyes to the sweating glass and ran his finger along the water droplets beading the glass, never noticing the angry scowl of the scorned woman as she huffed away in disgust mumbling hot words under her breath about how gay men should be outlawed from coming into disco clubs.

Dancing had never been his forte and Hutch much rather preferred a quiet evening at home with a bottle of beer at his side and his guitar across his lap, strumming quiet tunes on the strings of his "lady"; content to let the soft, soothing melody from the harmonizing strings take his cares and thoughts away. Here in this nightclub though, Hutch could barely hear himself conversing, much less thinking, as the blaring music continued to grate upon his nerves.

Light blue eyes drifted over the gyrating bodies pressed closely together on the lit dance floor, seeking out the familiar face of his partner. Every now and then, he could catch glimpses of Starsky in his white disco shirt and bell bottom pants, obscenely pumping his hips to the beat, eyes sparkling with laughter as he spun the small Asian woman around in his arms.

_"Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother, you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin', and we're stayin' alive, stayin' , ha, ha, ha stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha stayin' alive . . ."_

'Oh God, kill me now,' Hutch though irritably as he listened to the nasally voice of whichever BeeGee brother was singing at the moment. Yet his mind hung onto the last two words of the song and he found himself once again thinking about how miraculous it was that his partner had come out of the horrific nightmare of demons and cultists and had managed to stay alive and in one piece- especially when Hutch had thought that all was lost after Starsky and Jason Marcus had gone over the edge of the balcony.

The blond detective traced an old ring made from a water glass stain that had marked the small table he sat at. Even now, amid the swirling colors and the deafening music, Hutch's mind drifted back to the events that happened in the old Church during the raging storm that hit a few days prior; events that had forever changed his way of thinking about the world and what lay beyond the "veil". The strange and frightening experience he'd just lived through was enough to change anyone's spiritual beliefs and if Hutch were honest with himself, his days of being a skeptical atheist were over.

As a boy, the handsome blond remembered sitting quietly in his parent's church trying to understand the hell and damnation sermons his pastor regularly spewed out to the congregation on a weekly basis. For the most part, the whole Sunday ritual of going to church had bored Hutch as a child, for he knew he could be doing something much more stimulating with his time instead of wasting it, kneeling at a pew. Now as a man, Hutch never gave the man upstairs much thought, having decided a long time ago that God didn't exist. After all, how could a benevolent being allow all the suffering that he'd witnessed time and again on the streets? Over the years, Hutch had decided that there was no supreme, omniscient being and in a way, that thought was comforting for it validated his belief that there was only random acts of violence, chaos, and mayhem in the world.

Hutch shook his head, silently chiding himself as he snorted softly, remembering how he'd called out to God time and again for help when Starsky was vulnerable, hurt and alone with Jason in the locked church. The handsome blond detective snorted derisively. What a hypocrite he was! Maybe if he was truthful with himself, Hutch could admit that deep in his heart he still wanted to believe in God, secretly hoping beyond hope that there was some kind of omnipotent being out there watching out for mankind's welfare; but now after witnessing what had happened to Starsky, there was no doubt in the blond's mind of God's existence. If there were demons in this world, then there had to be angels and a God that directed them. _Right?_

Hutch sighed, eyeing the empty mug, wishing he had another one in front of him. His eyes drifted once more to the dance floor making sure he could still his partner, his overprotective nature still on high alert after Starsky's near brush with death. A slight smile graced the lips of the blond as he caught sight of Starsky strutting his stuff, making a show of sticking out his butt and gyrating it for all it was worth. Shaking his head, Hutch snorted and dropped his eyes once more to his finger that still traced the watermark on the tabletop.

_God, if he had lost Starsky that day . . ._

He could feel his heartbeat accelerating even now as he remembered rushing over to aid his partner and Starsky going head over heels over the ledge; hurt and battered, fighting for possession of the gun. He could still remember the burn he felt in his throat as he shouted for his partner, fear and dread making his eyes fill with tears as Starsky fell. Images that he would never forget flashed before his eyes as his mind raced back in time to that horrific day . . .

_"Starsky!" Hutch shouted in terror, rushing towards his partner as his dark haired counterpart stumbled over the railing, taking the priest with him._

_"Starsky . . . Noooooooo!" the blond screamed, hearing the sickening thud and crunch of bodies slamming and breaking against the hard concrete floor twenty-five feet below. "No!" Hutch whispered, silent tears of shock and pain streaming down his face as he forced himself to look at the carnage below. Bright blue eyes, swimming in tears, widened in disbelief and Hutch could feel his limbs trembling, barely able to support his weight as he looked over the ledge. "Oh my God, Starsky . . ." Hutch gasped. "Oh my, God!"_

_Hutch blinked back the tears, his mind unable to comprehend what he was seeing. It was beyond anything he could understand, yet his heart soared with sudden hope and relief as the blond clutched the metal railing, knuckles turning white with the forced pressure; leaning over as he witnessed what could only truly be deemed a miracle._

_"S-Starsk!" Hutch rasped; his eyes wide with fear and wonder as Starsky's body hung suspended in mid-air for a few seconds before it was gently lowered to the ground beside the broken and lifeless body of Simon's son. The head of the priest lay at an awkward angle and Hutch knew without a doubt that his neck had probably snapped in the fall. Light blue eyes jerked to Justin Thatcher standing just inside of the huge double doors to the church; the wooden portals were splintered and shattered as it hung open by its hinges. The dark haired FBI agent had his eyes clenched shut, his hand reaching up and out in the direction of the curly haired detective who hovered a few feet above the ground until the brunet was gently lowered by the wave of Justin's hand. The strain on Justin's face was unmistakable and Hutch gasped as Thatcher wavered and then dropped to one knee._

_Breathing hard, the dark haired agent opened his green eyes and locked them onto the motionless body of Starsky. Justin shrugged off Mari's touch as she tried to help him. "Go ch-check on him . . ." Thatcher said breathlessly. "I'm alright."_

_Hutch quickly turned, warily eyeing the trapped demon who snarled at the blond as he rushed past, flying down the stairs to drop beside his partner and Mari who cradled Starsky's head in her lap. The beautiful Asian woman leaned over the prone man as she firmly pressed a tee-shirt to staunch the flow of blood from Starsky's wounds._

_"How is he?" the blond panted, focusing his whole attention on his partner who lay so still, his chest barely lifting as air was drawn into his lungs._

_Mari shook her head; her eyes misting over with unshed tears. "He's barely breathing. H-His wounds have reopened again and he's lost a lot of blood." Hutch slid over and pressed his larger hands over the saturated tee shirt that Mari had fished from the forgotten duffle bag that lay by the wayside. Almond shaped eyes, dark and doe-like, lifted to glance at the blond beside her. "Hutch . . . I don't think he's going to . . ."_

_"Where's the bitch?"_

_Both Hutch and Mari turned to look at Thatcher who staggered to his feet, angry emerald eyes sparkling with determination._

_"Justin, you're in no shape to tangle with her right now," Mari warned._

_The handsome agent grimaced as he pressed his hand against the side of his head. "Where is she?" Thatcher snapped; ignoring his partner as he glanced at Hutch then made his way to the stairs. "He ain't gonna die if we kill the bitch first; and sending her back to hell where she came from will do just that. All of Starsky's wounds are paranormal inflictions. If we send the demon's ass back to hell, he'll heal right away before your eyes."_

_"She up there," Hutch said, nodding his chin to the balcony area above. "She's stuck in some kind of ritualistic diagram that was drawn on the floor upstairs._

_"She's in a devil's trap so she can't get out," Justin said, climbing the stairs. "Hutch stay with Starsky, Mari I need you to bring the book."_

_Mari gently lifted Starsky's head and moved over so Hutch could take her place. "He'll be okay, Hutch." Mari whispered. "Justin knows a lot more about demonology than I do and I trust him with my life." At Hutch's nod, Mari quickly opened her bag and dug through the contents within until she found small, black leather bound book. Smiling her encouragement at Hutch, the petite Asian woman quickly climbed the steps and stood beside her partner who glared at the curvaceous black haired demon._

_"He's mine," the seccubus hissed, her vicious claws extended out threateningly as she glared venomously at the agents, green eyes glimmering like a cat's in the dim light of the Church's upper room._

_"Go fuck yourself, bitch." Justin growled. "He was never yours. The master that summoned you is dead and in a few short minutes you'll be back to hell where you belong." Justin extended his hand and Mari quickly handed the book to the green-eyed agent, listening to the deep baritone voice of her partner as he began reciting the rites in Latin to return the seccubus to the fiery pit from whence she came._

_Hutch could hear Justin's voice from below, the Latin words flowing out were spoken with strength and conviction amid the screams coming from the demon; her beautiful corporeal form slowing dissipating back into a plume of oily smoke. The tall blond gently stroked the side of his partner's face; the usually swarthy complexion of the brunet was now pale and shimmered with a sheen of perspiration._

_"Hey, buddy," Hutch whispered, hunching over Starsky's still form as if to shield his partner from all the commotion coming from up above them. "You need to wake up, Starsk." Hutch stared at his hand pressing against his friend's abdomen, now crimson with his partner's lifeblood. The blond shivered as he felt rivulets of red escaping down Starsky's sides and pooling under his lower back._

_Too much blood . . . too much blood . . ._

_Hutch bit his lower lip to get a grip over the anxiety he felt. Then, purposely using the soothing voice he reserved just for Starsky, the blond detective continued, "It's gonna be okay now, Gordo . . . you're gonna be okay. J-Just open your eyes for me . . . that's all you have to do . . ."_

_Hutch could feel his mouth spreading into a smile as the dark curly lashes of the brunet began to roll, to and fro, a sign that Starsky was beginning to regain consciousness. "C'mon pal, just a little bit more, I'm right here beside you."_

_Hutch lifted his partner's limp hand, taking Starsky's pulse, only to gently rub the soft skin on the inside of the brunet's wrist. The blond detective's eyes began to grow wide as he noticed the deep slashes on Starsky's ribcage slowly starting to mend, the wounds closing up on itself before his very eyes as the shrill screaming above grew more intense and then suddenly stopped. The church grew quiet and still as the rain outside gentled to a soft drizzle and a ray of light gently broke through the storm clouds, filtering through the broken stained glass window to shine upon Starsky who lay prone and unmoving on the hard cold floor._

_"Jesus, Starsk," Hutch whispered, shaking his head in disbelief as his partner's flesh knitted itself. Even as he stared in awe, Hutch noticed that where there once was ragged slashes of torn flesh, smooth skin now replaced it; the opened wounds, now closed, were raw and pink with new skin. Hutch used a clean corner of the shirt to wipe away the remaining blood, noticing the pink color of skin on Starsky's abdomen slowly fading until the usual olive tone stood in its place. If Hutch hadn't known better, it would appear as if Starsky had never been wounded in the first place. The tall blond could feel the soft hairs on the back of his neck raise like hackles on a dog._

_"Unngh," Starsky groaned softly, dark lashes lifting to reveal sapphire eyes that were dazed and confused. The dark haired detective blinked away the haze that surrounded the golden being hunched over him until Hutch's face came into focus. "B-Blintz?"_

_Hutch beamed down at his weary friend, his own smile growing as he watched the slow grin that lifted the corners of Starsky's mouth. "Hey, pal! You promised me you wouldn't be sleeping on the job. That demon almost got you, meathead!"_

_"Yeah?" the brunet rasped, his throat felt dry and it was hard to speak, but Starsky knew Hutch needed him to say something, to ease the worry he could still see on the blond's hovering countenance. "Well, y-you promised me . . . you'd be back in three minutes." Starsky snorted softly at the look that came over Hutch's face and then closed his eyes. His body felt achy and weak like it did after a bout of illness, yet the horrible pain he remembered was rapidly easing. Starsky lifted his lashes once more as voices drew near._

_"It's Mari and her partner," Hutch reassured as he turned towards the couple coming their way._

_"How is he?" Justin asked._

_"His wounds . . . are they gone?" Mari questioned._

_"Hello, 'he' is right here," Starsky grumped, feeling Hutch helping him move into a sitting position, knowing how his dark haired partner hated for others to see him weak and vulnerable. The muscle in the brunet's jaw tightened and Starsky stifled a groan as he sat up, but the grin that lit his face made Mari happily run to the dark haired detective._

_"Oh my God, David," Mari laughed, "You're okay. Your wounds . . ."_

_"They're healed." Hutch finished. "It was unbelievable, just as you said Justin, they all just disappeared once the screaming stopped."_

_"Yeah, she's gone now," Thatcher said softly, crouching next to his elated partner as he eyed Starsky with a keen eye, making sure the cop was indeed alright._

_"She? You mean the sickobus?" Starsky asked._

_"It's seccubus." Hutch corrected._

_"Just call it a bitch," Justin threw in, his eyes twinkling with mischief as Mari admonished him with a stern look. "Yeah, we sent her back home to hell where she belongs."_

_"Sooo . . . no more dreams then right?" Starsky asked. At the silent nod from the dark haired agent, Starsky sighed wearily and said, "Well, at least maybe now I can put Sammy to rest."_

_The exhausted brunet glanced up at the sudden quiet that ensconced him as different shades of pupils stared at him with what he interpreted as pity. "Hey now, c'mon guys, don't look at me like that . . . it's over and I'm fine."_

_"Well, from what Hutch told me, you can do way better than her, David," Mari encouraged. "She didn't even appreciate you and the friendship you share with Hutch. Everyone knows how important it is to have a great relationship with your partner!" Mari childishly stuck out her tongue at the snort that came from Justin Thatcher._

_"Yeah, well . . . like I said, it's over." Starsky resolutely repeated as Hutch helped him to slowly stand up. "Samantha's got what she wanted and she can think whatever she'd like to about me and Hutch. Ain't no skin off my back."_

_"Well, I hate her!" Mari sniffed. "She's an idiot!"_

_Justin lifted a shoulder with a casual shrug, his eyes looking directly into the cobalt orbs of the weary cop. "I say she's a bitch, and like the demon we just got rid of, I say this Samantha deserves some payback . . . what do you say?" The handsome FBI agent nodded his chin and lifted a brow towards the curly haired cop, only to slowly smile as he caught a glimmer of mischief that sparkled in the sapphire pools of Starsky's eyes._

_"I say it's payback time," Starsky agreed with a smirk. "You with me, Hutch?"_

"Hutch!"

The laughing couple called out to the blond as they approached, weeding their way out of the sweaty gyrating throng of people that were still on the dance floor. Hearing the call of his name, Hutch snapped back to the here and now, blinking rapidly as the colorful lights from the strobe flashed into his eyes.

"Come on, Hutch. When are you going to ask me to dance?" Mari grinned playfully, wrapping her slender arms around the broad back of the blushing blond. "You haven't asked me to dance at all tonight" The beautiful agent leaned over Hutch's shoulder to speak into his ear as the loud music blared around them.

_"_Yeah, Hutchinson," Starsky put in his two cents. "You're being a party pooper, you know that don't chya?"

Hutch rolled his eyes at his exuberant partner and then smiled weakly at the petite Asian woman whom he loved as a sister. "Mari," the blond began, shaking his head, "I um . . . well, I don't know how . . . I mean, I do know how to dance, but I um . . . well, I'm not too good at it and . . ."

Mari leaned over and kissed Hutch on his flushed cheek. "It's okay, Ken. I was just joshing with you. I hate these places too. Maybe you can invite me over before my vacation ends and I'll make some sushi and tempura for you, but only if you play your guitar and sing a few songs for me. Is that a deal?"

Hutch smiled widely, his blue eyes softening with fondness for the dark haired lady who warmed his sensitive heart. "It's a deal, Mari! I would feel so honored to do that for you," Hutch said shyly.

"See?" Starsky scolded the FBI agent, "You've gone and made my partner blush! Shame on you!"

Mari laughed out loud and then quieted as she caught sight of the handsome man who entered the loud establishment. "Okay, they're here," she whispered as she bent near Hutch's ear. "Ready for our little plan?"

Hutch rolled his eyes and sighed. Light blue orbs connected to sapphire gems that twinkled with mirth. "You ready for this, buddy?"

Starsky smirked as he nudged his way between Mari and his partner. "You bet, lover boy! Bring it on!"

"Okay, get ready." Mari whispered, eyeing the couple nonchalantly. "Justin is leading her this way. Contact will be made in three, two, one . . ."

"**Oh. My. God**!" Samantha squealed as she saw the detectives. Her green eyes widened with shock and then narrowed in disgust as she pointed a red tipped nail towards her former curly haired boyfriend who sat on the lap of the handsome blond, lovingly twirling the short golden tendrils that curled at the nape of Hutch's neck. "I knew it! I just **KNEW**it!" Sammy screamed into Justin's ear.

As the couple neared the table, Mari pulled back and blended in with the crowd of people standing behind their table, her dark brown eyes never leaving the humorous scene that was unraveling right before her as the buxom woman pushed past the smaller lady to stand before Starsky and Hutch.

"Well, well . . . look who's here. And as usual, you're together . . . in more ways than one, I see!" the curvaceous brunette mocked and then snickered. Samantha Elliot gave an ugly sneer as she turned to her handsome companion who she possessively clung to; gloating that David Starsky would see her on the arm of the good-looking, debonair, green-eyed brunet, wanting, no, needing, to hurt her ex-boyfriend by showing off her new stud.

Samantha shuddered as she watched Starsky lean over to kiss his blond boyfriend on the tip of his nose, and she flinched back in surprise as Starsky yelped and jolted on Hutch's lap.

Hutch laughed out loud at the disguised warning he read in his partner's eyes. "C'mon babe, I know how you love it when I pinch that fine ass of yours. There's no need to pretend anymore. Don't be shy just because she's here!" The blond leaned over to nuzzle the brunet's neck and whispered, "How you holding up, babe?" Hutch smiled as he noted the imperceptible nod that the brunet gave him, knowing that Starsky was gonna be fine.

"You see, Justin?" Sammy continued. "I always knew my ex was flaming . . . both he and his partner-lover. Why, they're the talk of the whole department. I always say that there is truth to every rumor that goes around, and when I heard about David's homosexual tendencies, I just knew those rumors were true. Why, I can spot a gay man from across the room and th . . ."

"Shit, is that you Dave? David Starsky right? Oh my God, I thought I'd never see you again. Fuck, the last time I saw you, we were hugging goodbye in 'Nam. Who would have thought after all these years, I'd find you in some joint like this?"

Samantha's red-lined lips dropped open in a humiliating 'O' of surprise as she watched her handsome date drop her arm like it was some sort of disease-ridden, leprous appendage, almost running over the short distance it took to get to the table that the two detectives sat at.

"Thatcher!" Starsky excitedly jumped off Hutch's lap and hugged tightly onto the dark haired agent, his eyes widening in surprise as Justin tipped him over his arm and gave Starsky a huge wet kiss on the lips! It was all Starsky could do to not wipe the kiss off on the back of his arm.

"Mmmm-mmmm baby, you still taste the same!" Justin teased with a smack of his lips. Green eyes roamed over the crowds and connected to familiar almond shaped eyes that glimmered with suppressed mirth. 'At least Mari was getting a kick out of all this,' Justin thought with a smug smile.

_"_Wh-what?" Samantha Elliot stuttered in disbelief as she watched her date rub his hand over Starsky's ass. "What the hell's going on?"

Justin turned to the brunette, as if suddenly remembering she was there. "What do you think is going on, sweetheart? Thought you could spot a gay dude from across the room. Should have known you were just a lying bitch!" Thatcher sneered as he eyed the buxom woman with undisguised disdain.

"Well!" Samantha fumed, indignation and anger reddening her face. "Well, I . . . I never!"

"Maybe that's why you didn't know a good thing when you had it!" Mari sneered, taking both Starsky's and Justin's arm in hers as she eyed the taller woman. "You had the best men around the whole time and you were blinded by your prejudices. Your biased perceptions made you lose someone so very worthy. I don't know you at all, but I don't need to be a psychic to know that you truly are an idiot!"

"Just who the fuck are you, you China tramp?" Samantha scoffed angrily, staring down the tall line of her nose at the diminutive woman who stood her ground.

Justin growled, green eyes narrowing with anger, "Her name is Mari. She's Japanese, not Chinese, and she's my wife to be."

Justin decided to ignore the look of shocked surprise that registered on Mari's face at his last statement, choosing instead to focus his whole hostility upon the record's clerk. "So I suggest you take your speculations and keep them to yourself; after all, it's your big, bitchy mouth that got you into this mess in the first place."

"It's too bad you didn't have more faith in Starsky," Hutch added softly, his light blue eyes softening as glanced at his silent partner. "You're accusations made you lose a great guy." The blond felt almost sorry for the curvaceous brunette as dawning realization hit her hard, her beautiful face blanching at the thought of what she lost_._

"You mean . . ." Samantha began, turning to look at Starsky. "I mean, everyone said that you were gay, Dave. I just . . . I guess I just assumed . . ."

"You made an ass of yourself and him," Justin brusquely cut in, "Making assumptions always seem to do that."

"Oh, Dave . . ." Sam whispered, tears misting her bright green eyes, obvious regret evident on her face. "We can try again . . . I mean, I know you still love me . . ."

Mari looked at Starsky, seeing the hidden pain reflected in his blue eyes and she clutched tighter to the curly haired detective's muscled arm. "I don't think so, bitch," Mari said with a sneer, making her handsome partner snort quietly at her use of such foul language, crude words that usually only fell from his own lips.

"David's done with the likes of you_._ He and I have a date on the dance floor and then we're off to meet some of my girlfriends . . . ladies with more class than you. Looks like Dave will be stepping up in the world . . ." Mari grinned at the fuming woman.

Samantha Elliot's beautiful face scrunched together in an ugly scowl as she glowered at the shorter woman. "Is that true, Dave? You're going to dump me for her friends?" The attractive brunette turned to look expectantly at the dark haired cop who lifted sapphire colored eyes that hardened to a deep cobalt color.

"I don't know if you're up on current events, Sammy," Starsky said, his intense gaze never wavering from the beautiful face of his former girlfriend. Though he kept his voice soft, his words were very clear even in the din of the nightclub. ". . . But you've been dumped a long time ago, honey . . . and Mari's right, I am moving up in this world because now I don't have a baggage of trash weighing me down all the time."

Samantha's face reddened even more as everyone started laughing around her and it nearly killed her pride when she saw Starsky gazing at her with a look of pity. "You know what? FUCK YOU!" Samantha snapped at her ex, feeling a sense of satisfaction as his chuckling friends suddenly quieted. She expected to see something, anger, sadness, guilt, gloating . . . anything except the calm look of sympathy and understanding that crossed over the brunet's face.

Starsky continued to gaze into the jaded eyes of the woman he'd thought he'd once loved. Keeping his voice soft, but firm; the curly haired detective smiled then said, "I have fucked you, Sammy, remember? And no matter how good sex was with you, it would never, ever make me come back to you, because that's all it was . . . sex. It's over and I thank God for that. You're nothing to me now, except a bad memory."

With that, Starsky turned and gallantly offered Mari his arm, which made the beautiful Asian woman smile; her exquisite exotic features lighting up with joy. Mari clucked her tongue and she turned a gloating look over her shoulder at the angry brunette. "You're loss, girl!"

No one bothered a second glance as Samantha Elliot stormed out of the nightclub in a raging huff; the handsome men choosing instead to lavish their combined attentions upon the petite Asian woman who graced their presence with her quiet charm.

_-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-_

Hutch pulled his old, battered car over to the curb fronting Starsky's house as his weary partner attempted to climb out the passenger side. Reaching over, Hutch gently encircled the wrist of his friend, stopping Starsky from leaving. "You okay, buddy?" the blond detective asked quietly, his voice soft like velvet honey.

Starsky snorted, "Still playing the mother hen role, Hutchinson?" At the lift of his partner's perceptive brow, Starsky shrugged half-heartedly, clearing his throat uncomfortably as he saw the blond's blue eyes soften to the color of the sky, understanding and compassion for his partner clearing written upon his Nordic features. "Yeah, I'm fine, Hutch. I'm fine."

Gently releasing Starsky's wrist when he felt the brunet pull back, Hutch eyed his partner. "Rough night, huh?"

Starsky took in a deep breath and sighed. "Well, don' know if I liked doing that to Sammy, but I guess she deserved it in a way."

"Payback's a bitch." Hutch murmured.

Starsky grinned lopsidedly, "Ain't it?" The brunet looked down for a minute before lifting sapphire colored eyes to his best friend in the whole world. "I guess I felt kinda bad for her though, like we were all ganging up on her or somethin'."

"Well, no matter how thinly you slice it, eating humble pie always tastes like shit." Hutch replied sagely.

Starsky gave his partner a weird look and said, "Ya know, Hutch . . . sometimes you sound like my ma."

Hutch chuckled. "It's the mid-western upbringing. Only perfection hails from the mid-west!"

The brunet smirked, fumbling for the handle of the door. "Well, you're a shitty kisser, Blondie. You need to work on perfecting that!" Starsky grinned as he got out and closed the door, only to lean over onto the opened window of the LTD.

"Wait a minute," Hutch protested. "I never kissed you tonight, Starsk. That was Thatcher!"

Starsky chuckled and turned to go. The handsome blond frowned in the dark interior of the car. "I pinched your ass, remember?" Hutch called out to the retreating back of his friend. The blond's frown deepened. "Starsk, come back here. I wanna know how my pinch felt? Was it any good?"

"Goodnight, Hutch." Starsky threw over his shoulder; a lopsided smile could be heard in the brunet's voice.

"Hey . . . come back here." Hutch called out to the retreating back of the brunet. "Hey . . . this conversation is far from done yet . . . Starsk?"

"Staaaaaarsk!"

_**~Finis~**_

**A/N**: _Wow . . . it is done. Complete. Finished. Mahalo to all of you who chose to accompany me on this dark rollercoaster of a ride, it sure was a HOOT having you come along. Would love to hear what you thought of the story if you have the time. Thank you to those who took the time to review. As a great author once told me, reviews = love. Take care, and as we say in the islands . . . A hui hou, until we meet again . . ._

_Love and light . . . Shawne 'til Dawn_


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